


Like Real People Do

by daddyheloveshim



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, American Countryside, Closeted Harry, Cowboy Harry Styles, Daddy Issues, Family Drama, Farmer Harry Styles, Fluff, Horseback Riding, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Religious Harry Styles, Rich Louis Tomlinson, Roommates, Secret Relationship, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, Small Towns, Sort Of, Spoiled Louis Tomlinson, Summer Vacation, clingy louis, lost Louis, small town homophobia, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:00:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 219,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daddyheloveshim/pseuds/daddyheloveshim
Summary: Louis is a nineteen-year-old son of one of New York's most important entrepreneurs. A few weeks before starting Business school, he has his whole life figured out, except that he hates the vision of becoming exactly the type of person his father always wanted him to be. Helpless and scared for his future, he rebels, and that's exactly what leads him to the middle of nowhere Wisconsin where his father sent him to 'straighten up' after he crossed a line he didn't know existed.Now, he has to slave away his whole summer on a farm of a stranger he absolutely hates. The only consolation in his misery comes in the shape of a twenty-four-years-old farm employee that in all of this, is something of a supervisor of his, the only interesting thing in the whole town he was dumped in by a father who was done dealing with his son's insubordination.Essentially, spoiled Louis and farmer Harry are forced to spend vacation together. I can't do summaries. It's fun though, I promise.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 65
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi... I'm back, I guess.  
> I don't know exactly what this is. It started off as a writing workshop that got a bit out of hand and now that I've passed 100k words with it, I thought I might as well share it on here.  
> I realise it has a bit 2013 cliche fic vibe to it, but I never got a chance to write something like that, so this is me, seven years late.  
> With Uni taking up a huge chunk of my time, I cannot promise that updates are going to be nearly as frequent as they were with my two previous works. I'll either shoot for one or two updates a week, I don't know just yet.  
> I was reluctant to the idea of publishing before I get it finished, but I've encountered a bit of a block on my way and I need to motivate myself with the deadlines and hopefully feedback that I absolutely love receiving and encourage you all to leave, however minor. Constructive criticism is welcomed as well.  
> So, here's this thing that I've been working on ever since I've finished "If I Believe You", hope some of you stick around to see where this story lands us.

“Are you done yet, boy?” The low bass made it to the kitchen even before the source of the question did, scaring the shit out of Louis who might have kicked the table leg as he flinched, still dragging his spoon through the soggy mess that once was a bowl of cornflakes he settled on for breakfast, the only _edible_ thing in the whole household. 

Well… he _thought_ it was edible, up until the point when he came to realise that the inherent component of his cereal was, well… rustic, if he was going to be polite. Long story short, the milk was not pasteurised and that entirely rid Louis of the appetite he worked up overnight. 

Biting down on his lip to stifle a curse bundle that so effortlessly took over his head in reaction to being startled, he took a different approach. “Do you want me to choke?” The tinge of irritation was still audible in his voice, of course, it was. Still, it was nothing in comparison to what the man had coming previously. “Whatever, I’m not hungry anymore.” A sneer left his thin lips as he got up and tossed the bowl into the sink, not entirely sure what he was even supposed to do if he wanted to clean up after himself. 

“Good. it’s late already, prince.” Another jolt of annoyance sent to his brain at one of a million nicknames Frank has tested this morning, each of them more derogatory than the one prior. 

Certain that instigating arguments on his first day there wasn’t the brightest idea, Louis angrily shoved both hands in the pockets of his shorts and followed the old man, dragging his feet over the floor, and then, the dirt once they’ve stepped outside. 

From the second he found himself on the front porch, his nostrils picked up a distinct smell of the countryside, fuzzily remembering it from that school trip he was on in fourth grade. It wasn’t surprising, of course, that’s precisely where he was. And if you, reader, are fond of those idyllic tales of oh-so-peaceful life on a farm, you better sit this one out because he was most definitely no Anne of Green Gables, hating every single second he spent there from the moment he was dropped off late last evening. 

He was leaning on a beam supporting the roof above a janky, wooden construction, arms crossed on his chest, upper lip twitching, exposing his teeth like a dog ready to bite. If he was a canine, he would most fucking definitely have already sunk his teeth into the old farmer’s ass, the man exposing his rear end even further as he bent over a barrel. In Louis’ mind, there was no way there wasn’t a decomposing corpse stuffed into the thing, the ruthless stench that prickled his nostrils already preparing him to find something dead there. 

Half disgusted, half intrigued, he hung his eyes on the lid, stopping himself from audibly rushing the farmer to open the goddamned thing. He hasn’t done that, of course, he hasn’t, his deadly frown expressing everything his words simply could not. And there it was, the lid was lifted and what he actually saw, might have been the single last thing he expected, which was quite idiotic of him, he could admit that, especially considering where the hell he was standing. 

Still nonchalantly propped on the beam, with his foot chasing away the chickens brave enough to come a bit too close to him, he observed as Frank, with his pronounced gut making the task more difficult, scooped a whole pitcher of grain and approached Louis, scaring the birds away as he laid the vessel in the boy’s hands. 

“I need to be somewhere else, tend to some stuff. This will keep you occupied until Harry gets here to show you around.” Tugging his holey t-shirt down to cover his belly, the man scrutinised his new helper, something stern and maybe even threatening in some bizarre way, creeping behind his brown eyes. 

Louis only looked from the pitcher to the chickens prancing around the two of them, scratching in the ground, picking up whatever it was they mistook for the grain, all of that still in Louis’ hand, ready to be dispersed. “How do I even…” 

Frank hasn’t let him finish asking the question, shaking his head with a smug smirk on his barely-there lips. “Just throw it, I’m sure you can pull this off, bud.” 

Aware that the man was already making his way out of the coup, Lou squeezed his eyes shut, taking three deep breaths in order not to snap at the farmer, very unappreciative of the condescending manner he was addressed in. 

_Sure_ , he was no farmer aficionado or whatever, timidly avoiding chickens that _yes,_ maybe scared him a bit in a way that he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect of them but _fuck_ , it was his first day, he did not know how to do… all that. Neither was he interested in learning to, honestly. But being there, with no way of escaping anytime soon, he would much rather have some basics passed to him like, for example, _are fucking chickens going to bite the flesh off his legs_?! 

None of that happened though, mister big farmer too preoccupied to conduct even the most basic of training, leaving him absolutely hopeless, all alone with a relatively simple task of throwing grain around. The entry-level assignment still managed to result in rushes of mild panic flooding Louis with the constant screeching of the rooster and increasing boldness of the birds that were getting closer and closer as the time went by, the pitcher full of food in his hands not bettering his situation. 

Raking spread fingers through the grain, the tickle of it pleasurable on his skin, he let his fingers catch a handful of it. Following the instructions to a T, he just threw them, all the birds scrambling to get some for themselves. 

“Just like that, they will find it wherever you throw as long as it’s within the fence.” The man reassured the teen and just went on his merry way to… wherever he was headed. “Ada will send Harry your way when he’s back!” The farmer exclaimed, his voice barely audible from all the noise around Louis. 

“Calm your tits down, fucking hell!” He snarled at the chickens that now, given the taste of their favourite thing, started crowding him, expecting to get more, no hesitation in the way they were approaching him on their freakish feet.

And of course, he provided, if only to keep the creatures away from himself. The fact that he was not bitten yet reassured him just a bit, the boy looping around the coup, throwing seeds, the frequency of the fists he emptied decreasing once he felt _almost_ comfortable around the animals. Bored out of his mind, he started conducting little, bordering on cruel experiments on unsuspecting chickens he forced to race or even fight for the seeds he was now dispersing, fuelling his god complex that manifested rarely, but was there. 

Sourcing some twisted sense of satisfaction from the fights he instigated but not really, he hasn’t even noticed that the seed was over before his fingers hit the bottom of the cracked, plastic pitcher. After he dropped the vessel back into the barrel, struggling just a bit to open it, he was left with nothing holding him within the fence. Quickly, he hopped over it and found himself relaxing once the threat of being eaten alive by a herd of poultry left the back of his head. 

He just stood there, leaning over the fence that kept him safe in case the animals he tortured unified and tried to avenge the treatment they’ve gotten. A chuckle hit the heated air at the thought he put in his head. 

Out of all the things he _technically_ could’ve been doing, touring the farm the first idea that came up in his head, he decided to stay put, scared to get lost or miss Harry, who was apparently deemed some kind of supervisor of his. 

The name- _Harry_ , was mentioned around three million times since Louis got there, which wasn’t that long ago at all. First by Ada, the matron of the family as she welcomed Louis when he arrived, then by Frank, who constantly marvelled how good of a farmhand ‘his boy’ was. As of now, Lou wasn’t exactly aware who this person was, his formal status and affiliation to the hosts still a riddle in his head. 

When he arrived at ten, dropped off by his father’s business partner, the mystery person was already in the room next to the one he was assigned. When he got upstairs, he might have spent a minute or two with his ear pressed to one of two pairs of wooden door in their shared bathroom, the one leading to the golden boy’s bedroom, but there was nothing for him to eavesdrop on. Right now, he half believed that there was no Harry living there at all, maybe a ghost or figment of deranged psyches of hosts who, living in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin, were bound to lose their fucking minds sooner or later. 

The second part of him suspected to be bossed around by a fucking twelve-year-old, which would be the only explanation why in the hell was this person asleep at _ten in the fucking evening_. To be honest, he did not know which version would be worse. With all that on his mind, he could already see the shit-eating grin on his pop’s face once he calls with a complaint about his life in the countryside, very pleased about the humiliation his son had to endure as a consequence of the mayhem Louis tended to create around himself. That’s precisely why the boy was already determined not to call, not even once, pushing through the cruel sanction he _might have_ deserved, but still loathed his father for instituting it. 

Oh, right… _that._ Why was he even there if he so very obviously was suffering through every second he was forced to stay on the damn farm? Good question, bad person to ask for the logical process preceding the decision. From the hours upon hours of his dad’s babbling about it, most of it leaving his head as soon as he heard it, he only gathered as much as knowing that this was some sort of measure to straighten his behaviour. Pops, after nineteen years, finally stepping into his daddy shoes that, let’s be real… being abandoned for so long, was half of the reason why Louis was ‘like this’, in the first place. 

_Fine_ , there was no denying that Louis was not exactly a poster child, an obedient boy with unblemished past and delightful personality but sending a kid off to some godforsaken farm, wasting the last vacation he had before heading for college only because he got caught with some... _stuff_ was a bit severe, right? 

At least that’s what he thought, that outlook not shared by his father, who apparently got fed-up with constantly having to pull strings, using his wide-knit web of connections to get his son out of jail and sweep under a rug whichever misdemeanour he was arrested for this time. 

It was dumb because it was just molly and a joint, and he only had it because he forgot about it after coming home from Coachella, simple as that. Well, it’s not like he didn’t smoke at home, of course, he did, but there, he was slightly more cautious about possession and how much he had on him while out and about. If he even had any, most of the time putting that risk on whoever it was he was hanging out with, arrangement quite fair in his mind since the carrier usually enjoyed the stuff for free. 

So, that’s the story of how his father, for the first time in history putting his foot down, sent him off to his business partner’s brother’s farm as some sort of behavioural camp that was supposed to ‘teach the value of real work’ and all that similar type of bullshit that, realistically, was absolutely not going to happen. 

Could he refuse, far more experienced in rebelling against the rules than his father in establishing them? Yes, probably. Could he pay for his own college and everything that came with moving to California? That answer obviously negative. 

And now he was there, backwoods Wisconsin, perspiring like crazy under the scorching sun hung above his head. Did he really _need_ college? He started wondering, still absolutely outraged with the treatment he’s gotten from his father, not a fan of the new power dynamic between them, too used to having his way as long as he threw a fit. 

It really is true what they say about only children. They _do_ get everything they want. Another component that added to the ease in which the boy wrapped his parent around his little finger, came from the fact that the other half of Lou’s genetic code was not exactly in the picture, deceased in a particularly nasty traffic accident way back in the day. 

He didn’t remember his mother, barely able to form a simple sentence when she passed away, but it did not help with the guilt his father so obviously felt for taking his son’s mother away from him. Because see, as much as it was canon that the crash was not the man’s fault, he still drove the car his wife died in, therefore, he felt like he should have done more to save her, reacted differently to the approaching threat even at the price of his own life. 

With an array of nannies he had throughout his upbringing, Louis really couldn’t have been blamed for having little to no bond with his own father, the parent constantly too busy with work to provide time and attention a growing child so desperately needed. So, that’s more or less the story of how Louis Tomlinson found himself in the devil’s asshole he was in now, at least the summary of the tale. 

His face distorted in a yawn, the sleepless night catching up to him as he still stood by the hen house, observing the colourful and quite threatening rooster that stomped his way around the hens, trying to get what was his, mounting whichever one he felt like having at the moment. 

Rubbing a hole in the ground with the tip of his trainer, Louis nearly jumped once a weight settled on the fence to his right, unknown silhouette mimicking the way he was leaning on the construction, preposterously huge hands laced together in his peripheral vision as well as a tall statue of a man, who just simply could not be the twelve-years-old, prepubescent Harry he was waiting for… _oh._

“Hey.” A deep voice broke out over the screeching of one hen, a dominant rooster on her back, brutally taking what he believed was his, maybe not exactly wrong about that one, the moral code of animals far differing from the human one, if there was even any morality at all. 

Sucking a deep breath into his lungs, pushing it out slowly to get himself in check after being startled like that, Louis kept his head still, only in the corner of his eye observing hands of his new companion, calloused and very obviously _used_ , so different from his own dainty and soft ones, which, in fact, haven’t been used for work, not even once. For some bizarre reason, the reaction puzzling even him, he was ashamed of the contrast, feeling so hopelessly inferior to the man next to him based just on the state of his palms. 

In his head, he scolded himself for that idiotic behaviour, fully aware that he should have said something already. “Harry, right?” The question seemed fitting for their introduction, voice as bored as he could get it to sound. His silhouette straightened up, the object of his unreasonable embarrassment hidden in the pockets of his shorts. 

“Indeed.” The man who proved not to be a ghost, nodded his head, though there was really no certainty that it wasn’t Louis making shit up amid the heatstroke he wouldn’t exclude as a possibility after putting himself on the verge of one, standing for so long under the sun. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He apologised politely, trying to rub away a smudge of something dark on the skin of his left palm with moderate success. 

Brushing the words away, knowing that for the man to be late, there had to be a set time he was going to arrive, Louis found himself pondering over his next words. “Thank fuck you’re here, it’s been long since somebody made me realise how much of a burden I am around here.” 

“You have to excuse Frank, it’s just the way he is.” Only then Tomlinson let himself look to the side, finding the man beside him frowning just a bit, though he wasn’t sure whether it was his staple expression or there was something that put the furrow in between his thick eyebrows. 

Crossing arms on his chest, adapting that pissed off brat look, Louis found himself disagreeing. “No, Harry. I do not have to do anything at all.” He opposed, knowing that his words weren’t exactly true. “You can’t simply justify being an asshole with ‘he’s just like that’.” The excuse contained in quotation marks he showed with his pale fingers. “Does that work with murder as well?” 

“Hopefully, there won’t be an opportunity for me to find that out.” Harry snickered; the product of his vocal cords all warm spice and just… something so dangerously enticing in the harsh rasp of it. “Where to now?” 

This time it was Louis who frowned, though he doubted the man could see him as he was staring off in the distance. “Thought you were supposed to tell me.” His tone accusatory in a bizarre way he hasn’t intended to sound. 

“Is there something you particularly want to do?” Lou’s expression easing a bit as the thoughtfulness made itself obvious in the question. 

“Yeah, leave.” The answer thrown so carelessly in the wind elicited a laugh from his new acquaintance. Not to be narcissistic or whatever but he was proud of that one. 

Only when the laughter fizzled into a silent chuckle, Louis got an answer. “That… I am afraid I cannot let you do.” 

“Can’t we just pretend we’re doing something then?” A sigh told everything about his willingness towards collaborating on whatever people were actually doing in places like these. 

“Are you as good as pretending that you’re eating?” The supervisor made himself laugh. “I know it is a shocker but imaginary food is not exactly the best source of nutrition.” 

“Somebody thinks he’s clever…” The boy only blinded himself in the midst of an eye-roll, letting himself fall two or three steps behind Harry who already commenced the operation of touring the farm. 

Making their way towards a sizable building, which Louis already knew were stables, the last, apparently most pleasurable stop on their tour, he finally remembered the questions he had previously, just a part of his survey on Harry. “What are you doing here anyway?” His question a way of coaxing some information from the guy who, while quite talkative, diligently explaining the aspects of farm life to the uninitiated boy, hasn’t exactly said much about himself. The role he had on the farm and even who he was to the owners still remained unknown. Louis only knew that he was not their son, the tale of Ada and Frank’s grown-up children already told by Jack, pop’s friend. 

With the slightest smirk on his lips, Harry took a second to look at his new companion. “Working…” There was almost a question mark detectable in his words as if he seriously doubted the boy’s intellectual capacity. 

And of fucking course, he was working. Louis obviously knew that much from all the things Harry managed to tell him about the farm, tons more than Frank did with his chicken feeding tutorial. “Well, yeah. Duh.” His nose scrunched when the wind carried the distinct smell of the stables and blew it in his face. “But why… _here_?” Pushing through the disgust, he asked. 

The broad shoulders of the man shrugged in reaction to the question, giving Louis a great show of all the muscles constituting to his toned torso. “My mum and Ada pretty much grew up with each other. When I was fourteen, I just kind of started coming here to help out, earn some money.” He caught the door and slid it to the side, exposing spacious stables for Louis to see. 

They ended up stepping inside, the teen encouraged by Harry’s confident strides. He was still nervously pulling a loose thread that stuck out from the seam in his pocket, suddenly quite intimidated by the horses that immediately rushed to the edge of their boxes, scrutinising the unknown guest with their wise gazes. 

“What does a kid need money for in here anyways?” His scoff very audible in the serene stables. “I’ve heard the closest mall is miles away.” 

A bit hesitant, Tomlinson stepped closer to one of the boxes, motivated by the fact that the horse there was far more interested in the taller guy, the other one might as well not even exist. Good, that’s what he hoped for. 

“Books, records…” Harry started answering the question, hand already travelling up the horse’s muzzle, stroking the head ever so carefully. “I know you might be shocked, but we do actually have internet here.” A delightfully deep chuckle graced Louis’ ears, the green globes of his companion’s eyes stuck to the grey, dapple horse; huge, judging just by the size of its head. “Well… not _here_. In general.” 

And Louis sighed, disappointed. It’s not like he would even have anything to access the web on, all his devices confiscated prior to his departure as a second part of the punishment, pops thinking that complete separation from his friends was going to be somehow beneficial to him. As much as he thought it was funny, after all, him the first one to blame for any kind of stupid shit their group has pulled, rightfully so, he was almost certain that all the isolation was going to result in, is serious damage to his psyche. 

“Guess it’s my own fault for getting my hopes up.” Mindlessly, he kicked the ground beneath his feet, a cloud of debris flying up to settle on his trainer. It wasn’t a very thought-out reaction, the horse’s attention quickly shifting to his face, even though Harry was still caressing its huge head. 

“This is Grease.” A fond smile bent the man’s lips as he introduced the stallion to the still mildly unsettled boy. “He’s our oldest one, a true gentleman. A bit grumpy at times but loves attention. _All the attention_.” He blinked knowingly at the animal who gazed at him briefly, just as if they could actually understand each other. 

With a frown indicative of his puzzlement, Louis looked to the other man’s face, finding green eyes gauging his reaction to the pet. “Why is he called like that?” 

“I don’t know, never dared to ask.” An easy smile pushed his eyes into a squint. “Come on, he won’t bite you.” 

Encouraged by these words, Harry looking quite confident in this claim, Louis let his hand very slowly approach the muzzle, Grease’s nostrils flaring a bit as he sniffed the palm. Taking the lack of any significant reaction as silent permission, he let his hand slowly make its way up to the horse’s mane as he stroked the animal carefully. The hair beneath his fingers strangely human-like, the experience quenching curiosity of a boy, who always wondered how it would feel. 

“So you’ve been working since you were fourteen?” He picked the abandoned topic back up as they took a few steps to the second box, a blonde horse shoving its huge head into Harry’s face as soon as they came close. 

“I love you too, oh you silly girl.” The man unlatched the box, making his way inside with no warning. Seeing the worry in Louis’ eyes, he hasn’t even proposed for the boy to join him. “Yeah, summers and fall harvest you could find me here. Each year.” His long arm started moving in a fixed rhythm, a brush clasped in his hands before Louis even noticed he reached for it. 

Looking at the man, his elbows propped on the box gate since the mare was preoccupied with her caretaker, he tried to guess how old this Harry person could be, not recalling ever getting a clue of that. 

He looked youthful, in his clear skin and that wide grin that indicated he hasn’t lost the joy of living just yet. Standing, by Louis’ loose approximation, at around six feet tall, silhouette filled with lean muscle, he looked more adult than not, though the subtle shadow of facial hair scattered over his chin in patches confused the evaluation a little bit. This authentic, unfabricated ruggedness in the way he dressed, evidently caused by the work he was doing, brought him closer to thirty than twenty, and that completely disagreed with the previous consensus. 

“How many years?” Without a clear answer, Louis found himself indirectly asking for it. 

“Ten.” 

Twenty four… yeah, he looked like it. “And you’ve never left?” His question a bit intrusive, not that he had too much of a filter, but _still_ , he could have spared the disbelief in his voice. 

Another one of those joyous grins made its way on the farmer’s face, cheeks dimpling sweetly as he stroked the back of a horse he was now brushing. “How could I ever leave?” The glimmer in his eyes so explicitly conveying the genuine love he had for his job. “This little lady…” His hand gently patted the side of the mare that was most fucking certainly not _little_ , that one even bigger than the first horse. “Butterscotch. We’ve only gotten her three years ago, the youngest one. She can be a bit rowdy sometimes, but that’s only because she still thinks she’s a baby.” Another swipe of the brush over the blonde hair. “Which she obviously is, aren’t you sweetheart?” He addressed the animal, winking at the boy who drifted away a bit, too preoccupied with the popped vein that pulsed with every slow stroke of the man’s hand. “She’s stubborn as all hell but there’s nothing she won’t do for some a banana.” 

“Didn’t know they could eat bananas…” Tomlinson’s head shook a bit at his own ignorance, stopping quickly because, well… _why would he ever need to know that_? 

“See, already learning.” With one last embrace, Harry got out of the box, leaving Butterscotch quite visibly disappointed with being abandoned quite as quickly. 

Instead of moving to the third box as Louis suspected him to, his supervisor picked up two buckets from Butterscotch’s and Grease’s boxes, making his way outside. Clueless to what else he was supposed to do, Louis followed him and watched the man pour the water out of the buckets, using it to dampen the soil of some sort of vegetable patch. 

Seeing the curious gaze that carefully observed his actions, Harry decided to explain himself as he poured cold water straight from a hose to the horses’ buckets. “In the summer…” His reflex almost supernatural as he caught the hose a split second after it slipped out of the bucket. “I try to switch their water as frequently as I can. It becomes stagnant quickly, neither of us would want to drink that.” His face scrunched in disgust at the sheer thought. “But it’s still good for the plants, so that’s how I utilise it.” 

“Seems like a lot of effort to save half a bucket of water.” Tomlinson commented, nonchalantly leaned over the wall of the stables, observing as the buckets filled up. 

“Hey, with five buckets that’s two and a half full in total, three changes a day and that’s seven and a half. We’re looking here at what, seventy-five quarts?” The furrow in his eyebrows indicative of the calculations he was doing just to check his math. “It’s easy to take water for granted. But with the drought, I try to stay water-conscious, if you will.” 

“Makes sense.” He grumbled under his breath, pushing himself straight as he followed the man, who picked up the buckets as if they weight nothing, the flexing of his back underneath the wifebeater he was wearing, the only thing betraying this effortless act. “I never really think about it… water I mean.” Eyes stuck to the ground as he entered the stables, only to see Harry pick up two other black buckets and turn around to head back outside, repeating the previous action. 

Of course, he hasn’t thought about water in that way. That’s precisely what the man meant by the whole ‘taking it for granted’ thing. He wasn’t going to lie, he felt as if he was a kid called out for being naughty, rightfully so probably. 

Just when the buckets filled up with water, the brunette man grabbed the hose, slipping his thumb over the hole so instead of the thick rope flowing out, the water dispersed into droplets and small ribbons. As if acting on instinct, he brought the hose over his head, misting himself with the cold water like it was the most normal thing to do. Maybe it was, most certainly not in Louis’ world though. 

With the quick spray, accompanied by an unexpected howl, Harry closed the faucet, brushing wet hair away from his face with spread fingers. All ready to go, with no time to waste, he picked up the buckets with no hesitation whatsoever. Tomlinson only smirked, following his companion back inside. The top the man was wearing now clinging to his skin, emphasising every flex of his muscles, the wet fabric losing its opaqueness quite significantly. 

There really was no use denying that Harry was hot. Fuck yes, he was, Louis already acknowledging that before he even took a glance at him, the voice enough to send some truly sinful images to his head. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t necessarily _hated_ following the guy around like a lost puppy, listening to the deep rasp of his voice with utmost devotion and _very carefully_ observing whatever it was that the man demonstrated him. 

For whatever it was worth… if he was going to have to suffer through two whole months of this, he was glad he’ll at least have something to look at. Harry far more exciting of a target than Frank, with all due respect. No, actually… no respect at all. Fuck that guy. 

“This one is Icarus.” Harry broke Lou’s daydreaming when he spoke as they approached the third box, a white stallion looking from face to face. “He’s the star of the whole town, county even. The perfect boy, will do everything for praise.” The man hopped over the gate, combing through the horse’s snow-white mane with care. “He’s technically Frank’s daughter’s, a retired Champion. She doesn’t really come here to see him all that often, but I’m honoured to be his second favourite person.” The man winked at the animal, nodding his head a bit before he distanced himself, hopping back over the gate after he moved a salt block to the side with his foot. “Nowadays, he’s just bred and being busy reminding us that we’ll never be nowhere near as beautiful as he is.”

“Do they all just stay here all the time?” Louis inquired, thinking that it would be quite cruel to keep those glorious animals like that. 

“Oh, of course not.” Harry’s damp, dark brunette hair stayed put as he shook his head frantically, moving to the next box. He gestured his hand for the teen to stay back as he made his way towards the gate, and the boy didn’t have to be told twice. “During the summer, we get them out overnight. It’s just as easy for a heat stroke or sunburn as it is with humans, if not easier. At least this way I don’t have to spend half of my day re-applying their sun cream.”

Tomlinson chuckled at the thought of lathering a horse with sunscreen, then moving to pondering whether it was an actual thing to do or a joke he hasn’t caught. Either way, he felt too stupid to inquire about it, so he just observed. His eyes were stuck to the black, burly horse. The biggest one yet, and _fuck_ he was glad to be requested to stay back because even now, he found himself swallowing hard, the animal’s eyes fixed on his face, dominant and intimidating. 

“This one is…” Harry sighed, for the first time taking a step away from that joyful façade he wore ever since the two of them have met a few hours ago. “Officially, his name is Butcher… But I call him Raven.” 

“Butcher?” Mildly amused, that state visible in the smirk on his lips, Lou inquired as the man stroked the muzzle of the black stallion. 

His eyebrows knitted together, Harry seemingly pondering over the answer. “The name doesn’t do him any favours, does it? People are scared of him as it is.” 

With arms crossed on his chest, his body language saying everything there was to know about his eagerness to get to know the animal, he found himself confused. “Should I not be scared then?” 

“Not _scared_ … but keep your distance with this one. Under no circumstances I want you approaching him on your own, yeah?” The authority in his voice sounded foreign, making a cameo for the first time just then. The borderline threatening manner in a bizarre contrast with his actions as the man sandwiched the horse’s head in between his big palms and whispered something Louis didn’t catch. “He’s been hurt before, doesn’t trust people.” 

“He trusts you.” Louis noticed. 

Harry nods, chuckling almost voicelessly. “It took me years to win him over.” He threw with that tinge of pride in his voice. “Initially, he was a foster. When it came to letting him go, I just could not do that. So that’s how he stayed. He’s my boy, the only one of them. Frank is still giving me hell for putting my foot down and rescuing him.” Right at that moment, the man couldn’t have looked less hesitant about the rightness of his decision. “Even with Frank, I’d recommend keeping a safe distance, but you haven’t heard that from me.” 

Intrigued with this unexpected display of insubordination, so out of the ordinary with the boy constantly praising his boss, he decided to inquire. “Does he not trust Frank?”

Another one of these pensive expressions clouded Harry’s face. “Frank… he doesn’t really bond with animals, he doesn’t _get them._ ”

And Louis almost asked if Harry does as if it wasn’t obvious already. “Sure.”

“He tends to be a bit reckless. Doesn’t always remember that these are creatures so much bigger and stronger than us, so sticking with me would be your best bet at making it through the summer.”

Of course, Tomlinson did not need the lecture about how any of these horses could most definitely end his life with as little as one wrong move of his. “Noted” His nod meeting with Harry’s slightest smirk, the man still preoccupied with his pet. “Why Raven?” 

The plump lips pressed together, Lou’s temporary custodian apparently thinking of an appropriate answer. “It’s a poem that I like.” And now, he had the younger boy fully confused. Especially Harry’s head, now hung down as if he was embarrassed, filled the guest with questions. There was a determined look on his face as he still stroked the head of the stallion. “Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling…” A sheepish smirk on his lips as he recited, what Louis could only assume was the mentioned poem. “By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,” 

The effortless flippancy with which the words fell off Harry’s tongue had Louis genuinely astonished. He seriously doubted whether he would be able to recite Mother Goose with the ease Harry murmured… whoever it was that wrote _that_. 

With the calloused hands and the crimes against fashion in the shape of the wifebeater and the denim shorts that he so obviously cut himself from a pair of old jeans, Louis never would’ve expected the man to be drawn to poetry. Who knew, maybe it wasn’t as big as he assumed it was, just a snippet that engraved into the man’s memory for one reason or another. Set on not jumping to conclusions, he left that thought to hang in the air, yet to be decided.

Harry set the last of the buckets they have switched, even Louis eventually joining in for the last one because as much as reluctant to that idea he was, that’s precisely why he was there, to help.

He brushed his blue eyes over one other horse that Harry hasn’t introduced him to, barely even addressing the animal with as little as a little pat of his hand. “And that one?” A question broke the brief silence as they were already making their way out of the stables.

Harry glanced at the horses, quite evidently separated from the first batch, something pained settling in his features. “Well… she is not ours.” The soles of his shoes scuffed the substrate as he stopped dead in his tracks, redirecting his steps towards the box they were just passing. With furrowed eyebrows, he scrutinised the muzzle of a brown horse with an anonymous name and no backstory. Not finding anything concerning where he thought he saw something, the man smoothed his palm over the hair he managed to dishevel while examining the animal. “Frank keeps her for city folks who wanted a horse for their kids but don’t have a place to board one..”

Amazed by the monkey-like agility the man presented while jumping over the gate, Louis waited for Harry to get back to him. “So… horse hotel?” He found himself inquiring, a playful smirk creeping onto his lips.

“Yeah, I guess you can call it that.” Harry busied himself with a latch to the box he just left, very different from the rest, clearly improvised after some kind of malfunction. Leaving Louis a tad confused, he ran to the entrance of the building, quickly coming back with a corroded toolbox. “I keep her fed and cared for, but the owners don’t really want me around too much.”

“Why?” The boy asked, confused, always convinced that horses were quite sociable animals.

With eyes fixed on the lock, busy with the task that was so obviously already postponed before, Harry sighed exasperatedly. “Jealousy.” He scoffed. “They’re worried it would somehow affect their bond. I guess it makes some sense, but I don’t approve of that. Frankly, I find it cruel.” Contrary to his whole story, the man let his hand stroke the side of the horse’s head. “Look at her, so happy already. And I’ve barely even touched her.”

Louis only observed, hands crossed on his chest as he waited for his new boss, who was preoccupied with the mare that has, in fact, looked quite desperate for attention.

“That’s one rule you might catch me disobeying around here.” He looked over his shoulder, gauging the threat of the younger boy ratting him out. Apparently, he had no idea who he was dealing with. “I just find it idiotic to put an animal, which you claim to love, into such a mental strain only because you’re scared they will grow attached to a stable boy who feeds them and cleans their boxes.” Irritation was loud and clear in his tone, so unusual after hours of just bland politeness.

“I don’t know, I think it’s kinda late for preventing her from falling in love with you.” With a light chuckle, he stated the obvious. “How many more rules I might catch you breaking?”

“A whole bunch and then some.” The man answered, testing the latch to find it functional, therefore crossing that particular position off his to-do list. “Me and Frank… we’re really quite different. We used to clash a lot, back in the day when I was a bit more… _belligerent,_ if you will.” A smug smirk bent his lips at the memory he brought up. “As opinionated as I still am, I tend to keep low profile and just do things how I find them appropriate. It’s not often that Frank’s around to catch me going against him.”

“Why don’t you protest anymore?” Louis asked, fully aware that he wouldn’t be able to handle a situation like this one quite this peacefully, his relations with dad quite obviously showing his temperamental personality.

Harry picked the toolbox from the ground, immediately heading to the door, followed by his new apprentice. “At the end of the day, he’s my boss.” His shoulders shrugged as he dropped the box where he got it from, the two of them leaving the barn, door wide opened for a reason only known to the older man. “I don’t know how much work experience you have, as young as you are, but as your older pal I can already tell you that going around and undermining your boss’ authority is no way to keep a job.” The man nudged Louis’ side with an elbow, straight teeth exposed in a warm smile.

Very visibly unamused by the way he was addressed, Louis scoffed loudly as they were making their way towards the house. “Do you think I am twelve or something?” His question pointed, only amplifying his attitude in case Harry hasn’t caught it in his expression, that option quite probable as the two of them kept their eyes ahead.

Of course, he had no work experience, that fact established already, but Harry did not know that and something in the way he immediately made that assumption sent a jolt of bitterness to Lou’s head.

With a furrow in his eyebrows, Harry opened the screen door, the proper pair wide open as he let the shorter boy enter first. “How would I know how old you are?” With ease unmatching the force Louis had to put into the same action in the morning, the man pulled the fridge door open, a half-filled jug of something white almost materialising in his hand. “The most personal information you’ve let slip is your name while I’ve been babbling about myself more than I have in five years.” Tugging on the handle of one of a few cabinets, very evidently hand-painted blueish-grey, the farmer answered a question of whereabouts of some kind of drinking glass the boy had earlier but maybe was a bit too shy to ask. “Thirsty?”

And… yeah, he was. But then, whatever the thing in the jug was, it sure as fuck did not look like something he would like to put in his body. “What is that?” He inquired, already seeing that the liquid was a bit too viscous to be milk, his first guess incorrect.

“Buttermilk.”

“I think I’ll pass on that one.” The excuse devoid of any major sign of disgust, the boy unsure how enthusiastic his companion was about the drink he filled one of the glasses with. “Water’s fine if that’s not a problem…”

Harry’s face transformed into a frown, something threateningly hostile as he took the empty glass and measured it with his stern gaze, jumping back to Louis’ face, the teen barely keeping his mouth from falling agape, bewildered about the sudden change. “I thought I told you we were _not wasting water_ here.” The voice sharp and low, words spoken through clenched teeth.

If _bewildered_ was the word Louis would’ve used just a second ago, now he simply could not find one that would describe what he felt, not even every word from the dictionary dealing with utmost shock, piled one on top of the other seemed to be enough.

He just stood there, eyes like saucers, looking at Harry like he was some sort of psychopath. Out of the three members of that particular household, the man opposite him was the last one he would’ve suspected of being a straight-up nutcase. Looks like his instincts failed him this time, his opinion fully transformed with just one sentence.

And Harry just… exploded, burst out with laughter so resonant Tomlinson wouldn’t doubt the people inhabiting Florida could’ve heard it. “You should see your face!” Still laughing, the brunette approached the fridge again, pulling out a carafe with clear, familiar liquid. He made quick work of filling the second glass. “You have no business being so uptight here, Louis.” The glass filled with water quickly found its way to the teen. “Not around me at least.”

Bringing his blood pressure down with proper breathing, Louis finished his glass faster than Harry, whose Adam’s apple bobbed with every gulp he took of his preferred drink.

Relaxed just a bit after whatever the fuck just had happened, the teenager refilled his glass from the carafe, his new acquaintance following his lead, pouring himself another portion of the dairy beverage.

Harry slammed his glass down on the counter, licking off the white moustache that formed above his upper lip. He made sure that Louis was done drinking and refilled the carafe from the tap before he put it back into the fridge. Quickly washing their glasses in the farmhouse sink, he leaned to another cabinet and picked up a big bowl.

“Do you always cook here?” Louis broke the silence as the two of them sat on the back porch, a paring knife in the hand of each while they were peeling potatoes for whatever it was Harry had planned for them to eat.

“No, only sometimes when Ada is out.” The brunette man answered, not lifting his eyes from the vegetables he was peeling of their skin in no time. “It’s not like it _have to_ do that. It’s good having something warm after working all day.”

And that… he could understand very well. Because see, despite his physical labour being limited to carrying a half-filled bucket (he acted oblivious to the fact that Harry purposefully underfilled his one, doubting the strength of Lou’s frail arms, rightfully so), he was _famished._ It was clear to say that those three spoons of cornflakes he managed to force down his throat for breakfast and an apple he had for lunch were not enough food to get him through a normal day, not to mention… _this._

Sighing deeply, only showing how disappointed he was with himself, Louis tossed the shameful cube of what was left of the sizable potato he started with into the bowl with water. “What are these going to be?” He inquired, finally acknowledging the furious growling of his stomach, so unreasonably shameful now that nothing was covering it. Harry hasn’t addressed it though, even if there was no way he hasn’t heard. 

“Latkes.”

And the boy only nodded in response, unwilling to embarrass himself with the fact that despite hearing the name, he was still nowhere nearer picturing what he was going to eat than he was before.

After a filling dinner, Louis ballooning his stomach with what it felt like a whole truckload of what turned out to be a not-so-distant cousin of a hash brown, helping the food slide down his throat with sips of sweet tea Ada poured them in between batches of latkes she ended up frying instead of Harry, he was hopeful the work for the day was done. The sky was already the shade of orange, so it only made sense to him.

Nope! As soon as Harry remerged from the basement Louis was very uninterested in, he announced that it’s time to take the horses out to the pasture. Of course, the teenager followed him, because what else was he supposed to do, throw a fit? No. Not yet, at least.

He felt slightly terrified as he led the first horse, even if Harry paired him with Grease, that out of the whole batch, was the one he knew he could trust unconditionally. After Louis successfully pulled the task off with no turbulence whatsoever, he led out one more stallion, Icarus, who as preposterously as it sounded, genuinely made him feel unworthy of even touching his snow-white coat.

The beating of his heart might have stopped for a second when, during the last walk from the stables to the pasture, he felt a wet muzzle against his shoulder. What was so terrifying about it? Nothing if it wasn’t for the fact that the only horse other than the one Louis was leading was Butcher… no, _Raven_. With the _keep your distance_ talk he had to listen to, it wasn’t exactly surprising that all his muscles froze as soon as he realised what was happening.

Thankfully enough, Harry was there to react immediately and distanced himself from his new helper, apologising for getting distracted and letting that happen (that as in nothing at all because that’s precisely what happened, just a little scare) in the first place, clearly aware of Lou’s reaction.

Soon enough, Harry announced they were done for the day, the two of them heading to the house, Louis taking a seat on a rocking chair on the front porch, just looking around, not having anything more interesting since the nightmare of his hasn’t even included a TV.

Screen door flung open, the brunette man falling on the porch, finding Ada by the side of the house, watering her still quite short sunflowers with a hose. “I’m going to see mom, I shouldn’t be very late.” He informed the woman about his plans.

“Could you grab that lazy susan she promised me while you’re at it?” The woman requested, Louis carefully observing the interaction.

“Of course.” The man yelled back, turning on the heel of his foot to face Louis. “Wanna tag along?” He addressed his new friend.

Tomlinson furrowed his eyebrows, not completely decided whether it was a serious invitation or not. Nothing really indicated that it was not, but he still had his doubts. “No, thanks.” His answer only met with a shrug, the taller man hopping off the steps, heading for the ancient red truck parked to the side.

Louis observed him, wet hair explaining his earlier disappearance as he obviously was showering, before he disappeared behind the corner, the noise of the engine lingering for a bit when the truck was already gone.

Sipping whichever glass of sweet tea this evening, Louis, in the corner of his eye, observed as Ada was rearranging something in the fridge. Only the audible clattering exposed her struggle when her controlled movements have not. Knowing himself quite well, he was certain he would be already throwing shit out of the appliance if it had been him.

“What were you two up to today?” The woman inquired, just trying to make conversation, worrying Louis with the thought whether she wasn't one of _those_ people who couldn't stand silence.

“To be quite honest, I’ve just been slacking while Harry did all the work.” The two of them chuckled, the boy nervous and unsure while the woman joyful and airy. “Your horses are out of this world.”

Yeah… that. Contrary to everything he previously predicted, he ended up enjoying at least one thing on the farm. The horses, even while he kept his distance, still somewhat untrusting, have sparked his curiosity quite a bit. 

“Glad to hear you say that.” Ada finally closed the fridge door. “With Harry being so busy, he could use some help exercising them. It’s important to keep them active, you know?”

Of course, he did not. Or maybe he did, it was kind of logical after all. “As long as it’s not the… black one, I’m in.” He decided to avoid naming the stallion, unsure of which version was canon for the woman.

“Yes, I would agree that perhaps Raven is not an entry-level companion.” So, Raven it is. “There is a telephone hanging by the back door, you’re free to call whoever you wish. I’ve heard you haven’t brought one of your own.”

He would’ve scoffed at the expression, making it seem like he willingly opted out of bringing his phone to the farm. But he hasn’t commented, only nodded, appreciating the proposition even though he had no intention of using the landline anytime soon, most fucking definitely not to contact his father. “I’ll remember that. Thank you.” His eyebrows furrowed at the question that rushed to his head. “How early does Harry usually start his day?”

“He wakes up at five, by five fifteen he’s already out on weekdays.”

Oh _God_ … he shouldn’t have asked. “Does that clock in my room have an alarm?” He inquired, digging himself deeper into the hole he was going to regret getting into in approximately… nine hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, kicking off this story, I would like to say that I am, by no means, a country girl and even with as much googling and hours I've put into watching YouTube tutorials, there are bound to be some inaccuracies that some of you more experienced people will most likely notice.  
> This is obviously fiction. If my characters are treating the animals in an incorrect way, this was not intended. If you feel like it, hit me up and I'll make sure to correct whatever it is that I got wrong. If not, please enjoy the story for what it is, a fanfiction rather than a guide on how it is to live in the countryside.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dead_ would be the first word Louis would use to describe how he felt when he realised that with all his clueless fumbling, he managed to successfully set the alarm for himself. After shutting the beeping, slamming his hand on the clock like they’ve always done in the movies, getting it after the third or fourth try, he laid on his back, eyes shut as he revaluated all of the life choices that led to him right there, on that uncomfortable, narrow bed he was assigned, leftover from one of Frank and Ada’s offspring.

An undisclosed amount of time later, violent ringing, muffled just barely by the wall and the distance, reached his ears from Harry’s bedroom. Whether it was his or his neighbour’s clock, one of them was off… maybe both were, who knew?

Scrambling his half-dead body off the bed, bones aching with every step he took, he grabbed the knob of the bathroom door that was shared between Harry and him. With his eyes barely opened, he uncovered the room before himself, meeting a very shocked, not even remotely as miserable Harry with his hand still on the knob of the second door. “I appreciate the dedication, I really do.” Grinning, his expression borderline criminal at _five in the fucking morning_ , the man stepped into the bathroom, quite rude of him to do that since the two of them literally entered in the same exact moment. “But you should go back to sleep. Well… no, this is not a suggestion.” Spurting a glob of toothpaste on the bristles of his toothbrush, the man shook his head, clearly humoured his apprentice’s early-morning demeanour.

Louis was barely able to see the amused smirk in the mirror as Harry started brushing his teeth but as little, as he saw, managed to claim a spot on the very top of the most infuriating things that happened to the teen… at least these not related to Frank because that fucking asshole… ugh.

“No. Really, Louis.” The brunette insisted after spitting foam into the washbasin. “We are riding horses today and I most certainly don’t want you falling off one or getting kicked because you got distracted.” It was really quite obvious that he had to force the authority into his voice. “I don’t think you’re ready for cow duty just yet either way. It’s fine, I’ve been doing this alone for ages.”

It’s not like he had to be told twice. His step wobbly, whole body still half-asleep as he padded his way towards the bed, falling back onto the mattress that grew tenfold as comfortable as it was when he got up.

“When the alarm buzzes…” The voice surprising since he hasn’t even realised Harry was following him, now standing above his bed with the alarm clock in his hand. “You’ll have fifteen minutes for yourself. Then you’ll meet me downstairs for breakfast, yeah?”

Louis only grumbled in response, his voice groggy and muffled with a pillow.

“Good.” Only the click of the bathroom door announced the man’s departure, the teenager too preoccupied with approaching sleep to even care whether he was alone or not. 

“Relax. Breathe. He knows as much as you do how stressed you are, if not more.” Harry looked up at his student, the teen towering over him quite significantly as he sat, legs splayed, squeezing the horse’s sides maybe a bit too tight, visibly anxious.

And he tried. _Fuck_ , he really did this time! Not like all of the times he acted like he couldn’t get a grasp on something just because he didn’t feel like doing that. What was so idiotic, was the fact that he’s done this before, quite successfully if he was the judge of that.

During Lou’s second proper day on the farm, Harry fulfilled the promise and kicked off training him how to ride the horses that were, unquestionably, the one aspect of the place he enjoyed the most. Every second of downtime he managed to scramble, he was expected to be found either in the stables, getting accustomed to the horses, or on the paddock, just observing from the questionable safety, the fence provided.

Now, with Grease beneath him, the stallion Harry claimed was the one he trusts the most, he found himself a bit fidgety, which was the least suitable state to be in, while handling leather reins, straps that the man who taught him described as ‘horse steering wheel’. It was a bit overwhelming to possess this much power, the horse without hesitancy reacting to the slightest, even unintentional twitch of his wrists because it all meant something to him, a command Louis was yet to learn. The fact that his own head was so unusually high was not helping either, only there the boy realising how actually fragile his bones were in contrast with Grease’s, the stupid helmet he was forced to wear not easing his worries even a bit.

Only when he was reminded of the existence of respiration, he caught himself holding his breath, oblivious to the fact that he was doing that in the first place. Sucking fresh air into his lungs, his brain already conditioned to ignore the _rural_ tang the oxygen had to it, he pushed it out through his mouth, three more of the same thing to calm himself down.

To be fair, aware of the fact that there’s still some time Louis needs to get fully comfortable around the animals, Harry shouldn’t have started the second lesson by stating that the two of them were going to actually _ride_ horses after, instead of only looping the pen that was built on the farm when Icarus was trained to his prime, now mostly used for when people from neighbouring towns paid Harry to teach their kids to ride.

It must’ve been the experience with passing his knowledge to kids that resulted in truly extraordinary patience the brunette had for Louis who, well… might not have been the most focused of all.

By the end of the lesson, a bit of a surprise since there was no schedule or general pattern they followed, Tomlinson was back to the somewhat relaxed state. At least until he rode back to the stables, all by himself this time, still carefully supervised from a few steps away, and Harry broke out Raven from his box.

He helped Louis off the saddle, the boy still clumsy when it came to mounting and leaving horse’s back, and let Grease wander off a few feet to the side where he started nibbling on the patchy grass. “Can I ask you to change the water?”

Louis, without as little as a displeased grunt, got on with the task while his boss busied himself with grooming his stallion, something that was apparently quite vital when it came to bonding with an animal according to what Harry told him before.

When all the boxed horses already had fresh buckets of water, the teen leaned on the door of the stables and occupied himself with watching how expertly the brunette man switched between a whole lot of different combs and brushes, all of them with a different purpose, their characteristics somewhere in the back of Lou’s head, he was sure he’d be able to access that information if he needed.

“See how he’s chewing?” Harry asked, brushing the side of the stallion’s neck. “This means he likes it. He’s relaxed.” He elaborated, not waiting for Lou’s answer. The teen struggled to see that particular horse as something other than threatening. 

After tossing all the brushes into a bucket, the man moved to the stables, leaving the inexperienced boy with his intimidating stallion for a bit. Louis eyed Raven carefully, trying to remember whether the animals’ stance stated comfortable or angry, all of that still a bit chaotic in his head.

Before he reached his conclusion, the farmer was already back, a big saddle in his hands, carried so effortlessly Tomlinson wouldn’t have problems believing it weighed nothing if he didn’t already know that it was something around fifty pounds. Needing his hands free for a bit, Harry hung the dark saddle over the fence, picking up a pad that was right next to it. In an exercised movement, he placed it right where it needed to go. Then, he lowered the actual saddle on top of it. “Come, you still need some work on the straps.”

Louis looked at him, slightly hesitant to approach his companion’s horse but still did it anyway, making sure to stay out of Raven’s reach before he stood next to Harry who evaluated his technique of saddling a horse. It didn’t help that Raven was wider in the chest than Grease was, but he managed.

“I thought you were not using saddles.” The boy remarked as his supervisor was making sure the saddle was correctly fastened.

“He doesn’t buck as much with it on.” His shoulders shrugged a bit. “We’re working on that and I know he’s trying not to, but sometimes he forgets, so I’d rather saddle him and save you a fright or two.”

Not long after, the two of them were already on some sort of unpaved, more than likely unofficial path leading… somewhere. Harry hasn’t disclosed their destination, whether it was just forgetfulness or some kind of secret motive he had.

The first few minutes they were distancing themselves from the stables, that bizarre sense of security associated with the familiar place stripped away from him, Louis was scared shitless. He was stressing, even though he was pretty sure he trusted his companion with keeping him safe during the ride on top of being sure of Grease as well. Then there was this whole new thing of stressing about being anxious, that one coming from the awareness how his mood affected Grease, whom he led ahead, although it was debatable whether it was his guidance of questionable quality or just the horse knowing better and following Harry. Probably the latter, Lou thought.

He would’ve punched Harry’s exposed arm if he wasn’t still mildly terrified of Raven. Why? There was something in that effortlessness that simply pissed the teen off, the older man not looking at the path ahead more than he focused on it, yet his stallion staying sure and absolutely majestic with his midnight black coat shining in the sun.

It was never really a mystery to Louis that he was not a fan of being the lesser one, even the second-best not enough _._ This attitude turned out to be a cause of quite a bunch of his fits since he was… an averagely talented boy, and that was already being generous. He still recalled the hard smack of reality when he realised that his nannies, who constantly gassed him up, deeming a champion of whatever it was that he was doing, were not exactly honest with him.

A deep sigh left his parted lips, cutting that thought process at the core, the boy deciding that perhaps he wasn’t in the best situation to get distracted in.

Harry’s head immediately snapped to him, eyebrows drew together as he searched for the source of this clearly contemplative sigh. “I have a question.” He announced, just to get the boy’s attention, successfully. “Is that how you always are?” The question, in its vagueness, caused Lou’s expression mould into an inquiry. “So… mysterious? While I’ve told you half of my life story, I don’t even know where you are from. Your age still an enigma, though at least I know you’re not twelve, so that’s something.”

With a stubborn frown on his face, Louis tightened his jaws for a second, only then realising how stupid this reaction was. “I assumed Frank told you everything there was to tell.” His shoulders shrugged as he faced away from the older man, eyes stuck to a stack of timber they were passing. “From Ada’s behaviour I can already tell he painted me quite a picture.” He bit down on his tongue before the ‘rightfully so’ slipped off it.

And Harry… grew oddly quiet, a surprising change after three days of his constant babbling. That occurrence was enough to reassure Louis in his suspicion. Maybe there was the slightest prickle of shame that passed as soon as he felt it. He didn’t want to be perceived as this spoiled idiot that his father, most fucking likely painted him as, not without reason either. As much as he could handle Ada thinking of him in such a way, with Frank the ship very obviously already sailed, it didn’t sit well with him that Harry heard that story too. 

It felt weird to even think about it, very uncharacteristic to the teenager who normally wouldn’t give a single fuck to what some random cowboy thinks about him. With that man being so effortlessly superior to him in every way, the first person even as little as nearing the position of a role-model that he was probably already too old to have, that vague description of his person was the last thing he wanted Harry to see him as.

They just kept walking down the path that seemed to never end, progressively wilder, less… _urbanised_ , the last small cottage passed at least a half a mile ago. “I’m not the one to let other people’s opinions influence my own.” The brunette man broke the serenity of the melody whistled by some birds that Louis couldn’t identify even if he tried, the band hidden in the crowns of tall oaks growing around the path they were now slowly trotting on. “So I could really use some material because for now, it’s just blank canvas that doesn’t like to get up early and eat unprocessed food.”

And Louis scoffed, Harry’s opinion already more accurate than Frank’s. Because really, what credentials did his father have that made him think he’s the right person to describe his son in a brief bio? For that to make any sense, the man would have to spend with his son more than the five hours they’ve totalled each month, and that already with them being chatty. Yeah, maybe he had slight daddy issues, sue him!

“I’m from New York.” His shoulders slightly slumped as he provided the smallest amount of information he could, quickly correcting his posture. The ache in his lumbar vertebrae, so prominent when he actually sat straight, really showed the consequences of carrying himself carelessly throughout the years. Hopefully, his back wasn’t going to break in those three months during which an appointment with his father’s chiropractor was to stay in the box designated for wet dreams.

“Fancy.” The brunette man only threw, not entirely sure what else there was to say.

“Hardly.” Genuine loathing shining in Lou’s tone. “It’s all roaches, the stench of piss and too many people.”

Complaining from such a privileged position as the one he was in, seemed ridiculous in itself. And yet, he was doing that constantly, looking over the city from his dad’s Upper West Side penthouse with hatred that was almost tangible as it shot from his eyes. This was no place to raise a kid in; cold and artificial. Louis still remembered any sort of his younger self’ artistic expression, scribbles of every crayon from the box contained on a sheet of printer paper he snagged from his father’s office, vanishing from the fridge door as soon as a nanny put them there, heavily dousing him with praise she knew, he wasn’t going to get from his parent. There are only so many times you can excuse the disappearance with mischievous pixies or a draft that, in the perfectly air-conditioned apartment, was as much of a mythical concept as the supernatural creatures were, before the kid reached his own conclusions that stay with him for the rest of his life.

Fair, he couldn’t exactly see himself living in a place like his current Wisconsin residence, that one a bit too extreme for his liking, but it was still closer to what he wanted than New York City. A suburb would be nice. With neighbour kids to befriend, streets to scoff your knees on while transitioning off training wheels, where taking your kid to a playground hasn’t come with the awareness that somewhere in the shadows, some sick fuck is more than likely jacking off to the sight of them. None of these perks meaning shit to an ambitious man who never meant to be a father, claiming that his Wall Street job was not one that could’ve been done remotely. This one probably right.

Only when Harry stopped Raven, halting Grease as soon as he noticed that Louis’ head was somewhere else, the boy realised he pretty much blacked out for however long they’ve been trotting. With a deep sigh, the teen coaxed himself into consciousness, most of the stress associated with horseback riding disappeared once he hasn’t managed to cause a terrible disaster even with his mind not being completely there.

“So I assume you’re not planning to stick around there for much longer? New York, I mean.” The taller man quizzed, getting off the back of Raven with the agility of a person who’s been doing this forever, which he probably has.

Seeing that, Louis already started getting ready to dismount, that in top three of things he liked the least about handling horses. Thankfully enough, Harry was well aware of the clumsiness, so far from ideal, especially now that instead of the usual sand, they had hard ground beneath them. The taller guy quickly found his way to Grease’s side and aided his companion a little bit, taking his palm off Lou’s waist as soon as he was safe and steady.

“I’m moving out after this.” The teen admitted, tying the dapple grey stallion to one of the skinnier oaks, following his supervisor’s lead.

Harry just nodded his head. A few strides later, he was sitting on a trunk of a fallen tree, eaten hollow from the inside.

Quite puzzled as to what else he was supposed to do and why he was even brought there, he followed, perching next to the man just barely so, hesitant whether the decaying tree was enough to support the weight of his body.

“Where are you off to then?” The question was thrown in the wind that provided them with some relief in the never-ending swelter. Louis wasn’t sure if it was supported by any logic, not that great at geography at school, but the air felt a bit chillier in the forest they were surrounded by, though it was probably more fitting to say that it was less skin-meltingly blazing. But only a bit.

He let his eyes wander to the side, stick to his superior’s profile as the man was leaning forward, head propped on the bridge his hands formed, splayed knees as the foundation to that construction. Harry was just staring ahead; apparently, something captivating in the way woods parted like the red sea, the path still stretching onwards. 

A trace of uncertainty settled in Lou’s thoughts as he, on the backburner, had a question whether it was a pit stop or the end of their walk. His poor back, now recovering in the usual slouched position, was practically begging for it to be the latter of the two.

“San Francisco.” The answer hit the air after a stretch of silence unmatching the vague character of it. And of course, Louis was aware that Harry was not satisfied with the half-assed responses that haven’t really told him much at all. “For school. It’s not my definite destination.”

“Oh, college. I think Ada mentioned it, must’ve slipped away. Eighteen then, yeah?” The man for the first time acknowledged the fact that Louis’ life story isn’t exactly as alien to him as he pretended for it to be. “What are you going to study?”

Tomlinson’s teeth clenched just for a split second at the thought of going to college. Absentmindedly tracing random shapes in the dirt with a stick, he almost forgot that he was expected to answer the question so obviously directed at him, no other person in sight. “Business.” The announcement surprising with the bitterness the boy managed to fit into a single word.

“How convenient.” Harry clapped his hands, the sudden, impulsive reaction startling both the younger boy and the stallions that waited to be mounted again, the animals stirring audibly where they were bound off to the side. “We’ll check your credentials tomorrow.”

He wasn’t sure whether Harry caught the animosity in his voice and purposefully hasn’t dug deeper into the subject, or it was purely coincidental, Lou’s lucky stars looking over him. Knowing the man to be incredibly perceptive and engaged in every conversation the two of them managed to have, it was most likely the first option. Thank God for him being able to take a clue then.

How annoying of Louis to be constantly whining about the life most of the kids his age could only dream of... Boo hoo, poor baby living in a penthouse with his loaded father who pays for his every whim, no responsibility on his shoulders, no concern or a single thing to worry about, right? Yeah, kind of, not really.

With that careless life of an undoubtedly rich kid, came a whole load of expectations he had to meet, at least up until the point when his father finally realised that his son was not going to co-operate, rebelling against the parent who tried to impose his own unfulfilled ambitions onto him as long as he remembered. Those were not his ambitions, not his dreams of great future on a mattress made of money and a constant rat race, chasing that dollar even though it was redundant.

He knew how hypocritical he sounded, criticising pops and deriving from the well that was so full only because how driven and hard-working the man was, thoroughly enjoying the secure-blanket he was born with and yet showing little to no respect to a man who has woven it for him.

From the few times, he had a chance of meeting his grandfather, a kid forced into business-filled, suit and tie dinners two men had once or twice a year before one of them fell victim to his stressful lifestyle, Louis knew that his dad was just the same as his own father was. It was only the trust fund grandpa Tomlinson provided his son with, that led to the man, with a few well-thought-out moves on the stock market, ending up with more money he could ever spend.

Maybe his dad once was in a similar situation like the one he was in right now. Hell, maybe his grandpa was. What they evidently weren’t though, was ballsy enough to say no, to rebel. It must’ve been different then, the household dynamic transformed significantly since the eighties, when his dad made decisions crucial to his adult life, or even more so, the sixties when his grandpa made the same ones. Even with these thoughts, mere theories, he came up with at one point in his life based on not much actual evidence supporting them, he could not spare any sympathy for his dad who tailored Louis’ entire adolescence to land him in a school from his own dreams.

Joke’s on the poor pops though. No matter the hundreds of thousands spent on tuition in the most expensive private schools in the country, idiotic extracurriculars he forced his son into and times whoever wrote his recommendation letters managed to fit his dead mother on a single sheet of fancy stationery, Louis did not end up getting accepted into any of the Ivy League schools his dad pretty much applied for him. Far from that, the boy sourcing some twisted sense of satisfaction that he ended up enrolling into a college with an unimpressive acceptance rate of over sixteen times as much as his father’s wet dream’s four percent.

Aaron Tomlinson was a reasonable man, always keeping his both feet on the ground and that was the one thing his son might have had just the tiniest sliver of respect for. All of that, flew out of the floor-to-ceiling window of the home-office he might as well have been chained in, when he hallucinated his son with a business degree from Stanford, Harvard or, the absolute worst-case scenario, Princeton.

And Louis laughed, truly cackled in his face when he was let-in on the elaborate plan pops had to pay him into the best of the Ivy League, it didn’t help that he might have been stoned out of his mind during that particular conversation, or rather father’s monologue. Sure, having his father pay the way throughout his education, maintaining a high GPA was not exactly a huge accomplishment, especially with all the tutors he had at the flick of his wrist, ready to write his assignments in the middle of the night if he happened to forget about something due in the morning. There was something the extensive hours of tutoring haven’t managed to grant him, which was top 20% SAT score he would need to even have a privilege of dreaming about getting into any of these schools, didn’t matter that it was not even his aspiration in the first place.

Personally, he was fucking thrilled when the results came in, so much higher than he thought he was capable of scoring. The perception of his own intellect was clouded by the fact that he never really had a chance to be evaluated by any of the teachers he had throughout his life, every single grade on his report card courtesy of either some Harvard student with a side-gig of ghostwriting assignments for high schoolers or straight-up cheating.

Even as proud of himself as he was, it was safe to say that all of the excitement wore off as soon as he saw how devastated his father was. Louis had a good idea that he owed the trip to the farm to the fact that pops, even if pretending otherwise, was still very much bitter, no matter the gap year the boy managed to argue his way into. It was really quite obvious the old man was more concerned about the bragging rights an Ivy League degree with his offspring’s name on it would grant him rather than a genuine interest in his son’s life.

Louis would’ve been disappointed with his father’s priorities… sad even, if the constant blows the man more or less consciously delivered him, haven’t desensitised him to the point where he just simply didn’t give a fuck. Maybe his interest in whatever his father thought of him was even smaller than in what complete random did, his attitude towards Harry looking at him through his father’s lens’ clearly showing that it was the truth. By the age of nineteen, Louis found himself rendered impotent to quite a catalogue of human feelings, unable to think of any sort of goal that would set the train of his just barely started adulthood in motion.

Try finding a person his age that would tell you, without hesitation, what it is that they want to be. Most of Lou’s peers would flush and stutter until they would blurt out a few options, heavily emphasising that these are just the ideas, things they are passionate about and would love to make a career out of. That’s how Louis was different. They had ideas, some pointers in what direction to head while he had nothing. Not a single fucking clue.

He supposed it was a repercussion of his upbringing. It was really quite ridiculous that with barely any time they have spent together throughout the boy’s entire life, his father managed to be so controlling, pretty much making every decision for him, steering him like he was blind with hands of various nannies and au pairs that came and went, the heavy rotation of the women taking another jab at the boy’s psyche by stripping him off that layer of security a child should have. Nothing was constant in little Louis’ life, even if he remained put, not once moving from the place he was brought into from hospital after being born.

“What’s tomorrow?” He asked, his whole internal diatribe about his father apparently not shutting him down for long enough for his silence to alarm Harry, who might not have been the most reliable judge, being prone to drift off mid-sentence himself.

“Tomorrow, we’re putting your skill to test on the little stand I sell eggs on. It’s our own, very scaled down version of a farmer’s market. But we were doing long before hipsters stole it.” The man leaned to the back, propping himself on his elbows as he gazed curiously at his companion, just to see how reluctant he was to the idea. Knowing the boy quite briefly, Harry was more than sure that there was bound to be at least some aversion towards a thing that was such an integral part of his own life, he sometimes forgot it wasn’t something everybody did.

“They make you sell eggs?” Here it was, that very expected reaction bordering on outrage.

“Nobody is making me do anything.” The brunette man laughed, raising his eyes to the cloudless sky, the blue barely peeking through the lush foliage so far above their heads. “If you have too much of something, you sell it. What would be the point of waking up so early to milk the cows if we flushed down the drain what we haven’t managed to use up?”

“Milk too?” The teen completely disregarded the rather logical argument his overseer provided. Even if he hasn’t acknowledged that, he found it quite valid. It was just him being constantly in awe of how many things this man was carrying on his shoulders, for a shit pay too probably, though he hasn’t dared to inquire about that.

“Yeah.” A shrug only amplified how natural it was for him. “Somebody is coming later today to pick up the yield from the last two days.”

And now, Louis was fucking confused with this borderline salmonella worship. “Who needs this much milk?” Disgust painted on his face.

 _Okay,_ he actually had a stop at the barn where the cows were housed, and he saw that the younger of the two farmers kept everything hygienic and orderly, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around a person casually going through _that_ much milk. Being raw, it couldn’t have lasted long in the fridge too.

Harry shifted his weight onto his left hip, facing the confused boy. “We have people coming all the way from the city for this stuff.” Something in the shape of pride in his stance as he boasted about the demand. “Somebody just comes and takes everything we have. It’s more people, just one comes for the pickup to save gas and time.” His broad shoulders shook in a shrug. “One of them mentioned a Facebook group she advertised us on. I’m pretty sure these are the people that don’t vaccinate their damn kids.”

Louis laughed at how unexpectedly opinionated his companion turned out to be in the matter of conventional medicine. Good, at least he didn’t have to worry about him being fucked up in this way. His passion for all organic food and DIY sausage, which he might have tricked Louis into eating with his breakfast, what was even worse was that the boy found himself thoroughly enjoying it, was enough in itself.

“I wonder what IRS would say about that little side-hustle of yours.” The boy nudged his boss’ side, and as soon as the chuckle he elicited in that way fizzled out, they grew quiet.

The complete serenity of the forest spilt over Louis so effortlessly, none of that bitterness from a few minutes before mattered anymore, all swept away by the subtle breeze that picked up here and there, ruffling the boy’s hair. He was overpowered, in a good way, though. With the melody of the birds tingling his ears, a stray sunbeam warming up his face as it somehow managed to slip through the barrier the leaves created, Tomlinson found himself enjoying the place more than he would ever predict himself to.

His nostrils flared as he relished in the distinct aroma of damp moss, one so surprising during the drought. All of his senses being flooded with stimuli, too much for him to handle to the point where he just let his eyes close, expecting a stroke once he adds up the visual image to the list of things his poor brain had to process.

Jealousy started knotting in the back of his head, not in a malicious sense of the feeling… _fine_ , maybe a little. He just had a hard time believing that some people had places like these so close to home when he had to make do with the overcrowded Central Park if he ever needed to escape for a bit. While in Wisconsin, he could already see himself coming back here, even on his own, taking advantage of the privilege before he was stripped away of it. With that in his mind, he started wondering what other spots Harry kept from him, more than likely certain that Louis wouldn’t be interested in seeing them. Little did he know…

They haven’t really talked once the time has come to head back, just trotting slowly next to each other on their way back to the farm where they had to be as the milk people were going to be there soon. Louis was happy to see that with every time he mounted the saddle, he found himself less and less anxious, the lack of any incidents easing his stress bit by bit.

Once they got back, Harry was summoned by Frank, whom Louis was quite surprised to see there. As much as it was that guy who was the actual owner of the farm, it hasn’t really felt like he was, the man heading out as soon as he got up, significantly later than Harry who was up at the brink of the morning, and coming back when everybody was either in bed already, or at the end of their individual evening routines.

Sure, he could be working, the estate far exceeding the area around the farmhouse Louis only knew, though the pungent stench of booze that followed the head of the house every evening said otherwise. He even tried to confirm his suspicions, commenting the unusual wobble in the man’s step around Harry, but the brunette never joined in and elaborated, which only made the teen think that perhaps it is not something out of the routine.

When his supervisor disappeared as soon as he secured Raven in his box, Louis stayed in the stables. Having already groomed Grease properly prior to his lesson, he unsaddled him and picked up the least abrasive brush in case there was something like over-grooming a horse, and just started brushing the stallion’s sides with it, more interested in bonding with the animal rather than actually cleaning its coat, that already taken care of.

“Oh. So you like that too, don’t you?” He laughed to himself, seeing his companion chewing on nothing at all. “Thank you for being so good to me, I’ll make sure to steal something for you from the kitchen.” His voice grew quieter as he was still a bit apprehensive towards talking to the animals. Maybe not even that… he didn’t mind the talking, it was more being caught while doing it that he wasn’t looking forward to, didn’t matter that Harry was the only person that could walk in on him, and he, so shamelessly led full-on conversations with the horses, sometimes even acting like they were answering him.

It’s just like making faces at kids in public places. You do it because you want to make them laugh or whatever, but you don’t want to be caught by the parent, because they will think you’re a weirdo. Sure, with only Harry and him hanging out around the stables, it was quite dumb of him to stop himself so much, but he still needed some time before he gains the confidence to converse with the animals even nearly as unabashedly as the other guy did. If he was going to ever have that.

It was no mystery that perhaps Louis cared what these people thought about him, which was unprecedented as the usual amount of fucks he had to give was none. With that, he made more or less conscious decision to tone down his behaviour, though, to be fair, it only influenced how much he was talking to them, which was barely at all if it was to be compared with his usual talkativeness.

Because see… living with his father, he didn’t exactly have many opportunities to recharge his social battery, only a maid he could pull into small talk four times a week or the doorman in the reception of his building. That’s why, every chance he got, he was out, leaving soon after waking up, coming back late or not at all. At the age of eighteen, his absence stopped being questioned even if he hasn’t disclosed where he would be staying and if he was even alive.

While at home, he could count on his pals to always hear him out. But here, he had nobody like that, and he was slowly driving himself nuts with just the thoughts he had, building up pressure in his head without any output at all. If that situation was to continue and he gets desperate enough, he’ll probably end up laying his deepest secrets on unsuspecting Grease, but he couldn’t say he liked that idea.

When the sun started making its way off the sky, bringing an orange tinge that slowly overtook the blue, Louis, feeling a bit daring after his successful riding lesson, ticked off one of the steps of Harry’s routine by taking all the horses (well, _almost_ all of them) to the pasture, still obeying the rule of not approaching Raven, not seeing himself breaking that one any time soon.

It was only when he stopped by the fence to watch the horses for a bit that he heard a commotion in one of the sheds he only knew as ‘storage’, apparently that one not important enough to take a spot in the tour Louis was given on his first day. Interested, he approached the building, knowing that more than likely, he was going to find Harry there, the man disappeared around an hour prior.

And he did find him, not alone though. An unusual occurrence to find Frank around so early, not to mention doing actual work, but he was there. Louis nonchalantly leaned on the door, watching as two men were handling bales of hay.

“Bored already?” Harry’s eyebrow cocked up as soon as he spotted their new companion, immediately picking up another sheave and tossing it atop of a huge pile.

The only thing he got from Frank, was a disgruntled look, though Louis couldn’t say he wasn’t already accustomed to this, in his opinion, unjustified hostility. Still, he had to cut the farmer some slack, at the end of the day, it was his father’s words that influenced his opinion on him. “Can I help somehow?” He decided to inquire, perhaps get a point or two in the eldest one’s eyes.

Dark eyebrows of Harry’s furrowed for a second before he tossed the bale he held atop the mountain of stacked hay. “I guess you could.” Louis already on his way to the middle of the shed, where all the action was happening. “Just do what I was doing, while I…” His speed almost inhumane as he darted to the side, climbing the stack tall on at least seven feet, mere seconds passed, and he was already up. “Maybe with a helper, you will manage to catch up.” This one directed at Frank, who with angry grumbles under his nose, muffled by the lush moustache he had going on, didn’t seem very appreciative of Harry taking the piss off him like that.

Unwilling to even try at something in a shape of small talk with the old man, Louis immediately started working. It wasn’t complicated. You pick up bales from the bottom, throw them up to Harry who arranged them in the most efficient way, making space for this year’s yield when the time comes to store it for the winter. What was even more surprising, was that with his frail musculature, he got the hang of the job relatively quickly, with maybe three or four sheaves that somehow ended up nowhere near where he intended to throw them.

Even outnumbering the brunette guy atop the stack, they still were falling behind, Harry like some sort of machine, his movements bordering on robotic as he aligned the cubes exactly where they were supposed to be.

“Thank the lord you don’t have to keep a job with these hands!” Frank remarked from a few steps away, observing how Louis tossed the bales for Harry to stack up.

He hasn’t answered, thinking that he was above picking fights with people like Frank, the lesson about bullies learned somewhere around the age of seven, though in that scenario it was him who was the bad guy. It was just really fucking ironic that this guy had the audacity to call him out on falling a bit behind. Of fucking course he was not keeping up with that one percent of muscle that built his body, while Frank was taking a ‘little break’ for at least ten minutes now, more than that probably.

His father never told him what it was that these people were getting for keeping him for the summer. They sure as fuck weren’t doing that for the manual labour. Or maybe they were, and that’s why Frank was so pissed off at him all the time. That would make sense, kind of. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to entertain this little pastime the farmer has found for himself while the other two were working, one harder than the other, but Louis still _tried_ , okay?

“Hey!” Harry yelled from the top of the stack. “No slacking down there, shut up and throw!” It most likely wasn’t the man’s intention, but the youngest of the three was glad that his supervisor cut the bitching festival down on the ground, therefore resulting in no other comments coming out, even if Lou could already see that there were some left unsaid. “Actually…” The tallest man let himself fall on the bales, legs dangling off the edge as he sat on it, looking down at his co-workers. “We’ll handle the bales if you get the milk people, how does that sound?”

“What’s in it for you?” Frank inquired, clearly sharing Lou’s outlook on the situation. The teen was wondering about the same thing. Because really, carrying two crates of milk into some people’s car seemed like far less of a hassle than… that.

“I just don’t feel like being around people. That’s all.” Harry shrugged, every muscle of his bare chest shifting right in front of Louis’ eyes. It looked like Frank didn’t need to be told twice, already on his way out of the shed, his step maybe a bit livelier than usual, most likely hoping to be far in case Harry changes his mind.

And Louis… oh, he was looking. More like staring even, Harry kindly enough, let him hang his eyes on the bare torso, he sported as his eyes fell closed. Louis devoured the impressive sculpture of his muscle visible under the stretch of golden skin covering it, glistening in the orange beams of setting sun, just the right amount of hair dusting his chest, dark trail leading from his navel, disappearing underneath the waistband of his denim shorts. 

Obviously, he was aware of how inappropriate it was to even let himself think about Harry in this way, but he couldn’t exactly deny the attraction. On top of that, he was nineteen years old and had the libido of a teenager who just now discovered the joys of masturbation. As much as he could rub one off in the shower, he missed the selection of porn that was taken away from him with his phone. So maybe, just maybe, Harry made a cameo in his thoughts once or twice, but he felt weird about it as the post nut clarity took over. 

Louis almost groaned at the display, a compliment formed without him realising, but he managed to stop it, conscious enough to know how absolutely obvious would that make him sound. And he snapped out of it, quicker than the man above him opened his eyes. With that, he grabbed another bale and threw it directly at the brunette. His aim good enough, Harry shoved onto his back with the impact, a loud cackle breaking out from behind the sheave. “Oh so now you can aim correctly?” The man teased, his approach far more playful and innocent than Frank’s.

“Ada said it is going to rain tomorrow.” Louis remarked, laid atop of a few hay bales, propped up on both of his elbows, winding down after they’ve finished for the day. “How does that affect your little farmer’s market?” He wasn’t sure whether he was actually interested or just trying to find an excuse not to go.

Harry, visibly unbothered, continued collecting all the hay that escaped the sheaves and tossing it in a big pile to the side. “We haven’t gotten rain in a week and we sure as fuck aren’t getting any this weekend.” The man stabbed the fork he was using into the pile. Every muscle of his torso flexed as he got round to fixing a bandana he used to keep hair out of his face as it was doing a mediocre job of it, at best, damp strands of brunette locks sticking to the sweat he worked up while tossing the last hay bales to the very top of the pile that, after they’ve finished, came to somewhere around ten feet tall. “The air is too dry, I think she’s just trying to manifest it.” Having completed his work, the man let himself sit on the bale Louis’ legs were partially taking up.

“Throw a match and it’s all up in flames.” The teen’s eyes languidly followed the stacks of hay stored for the winter, feeling the slight burn of his barely existent biceps at the memory of moving them just a while ago.

Harry chuckled, nothing nervous in the sound, clearly not thinking that his apprentice would be capable of such a thing. “Maybe do not do that then? Please?” Faux worry in his voice as he decided to pursue the joke. “They will have it hard enough this winter, your little arson daydream is the last thing they need.” His hand shot to nudge Lou’s shoulder, one of the boy’s elbows collapsing.

Quickly enough, he got back into his position. “I doubt I could even get ahold of matches here. They don’t trust me with anything.” An exasperated sigh flared his nostrils.

“Is there really so much anger in you?” The inquiry incredibly serious all of a sudden.

“I’m not angry, oh God.” Preposterously enough, Louis found himself chuckling. “I mean… am I pissed that I have to spend my whole vacation in some fucking groundhog day? _Sure_. But it’s not these people I am mad at. I’d rather crash one of my father’s cars than take it out on these innocent folks, who very obviously don’t want me here as much as I don’t want to be here.”

With a groove in between his eyebrows, Harry pondered over the teen’s words. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Crash the car. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“ _Sure._ ”

“I don’t know if it helps but I don’t mind you being here.” The confession not nearly as heavy as Louis thought it should be, as it would have been if he was the one who made it. But Harry just was like that, he said things before he thought, and most of all, he hasn’t seemed to have that filter that would stop things from leaving his mouth only because he was scared what people would think of him. “I probably don’t have any right to school you or whatever, and it’s not what I’m trying to do, but…” Lou’s eyebrow cocked up, intrigued where this whole thing led. “I think the best thing you can do to spite your father, is do well here, have fun.”

And the boy almost scoffed at the thought of having fun… _there_ . How fun can be cleaning manure or being an unpaid errand boy for a fucking asshole Frank was? “I’m _trying_ to.” His words were a bit more bitter than he intended.

Harry sighed, looking defeated for the first time ever. Quite a step away from his usual demeanour. “I get that you don’t think I’m very bright or whatever and that’s fine, you have the right to your own opinion as much as I have to mine. But I can see that you’re very bothered about what it is that we think of you, even if I’ve already told you that I don’t see you as anything because I simply won’t make a decision based on nothing, which is exactly what I have with you always shutting down when you come even close to telling me anything more than dry facts that I don’t get anything from.” The farmer pivoted his body, now fully facing the boy who felt like he was called to the principal’s office and told off. “It’s fine if you want me to stay away from your business or whatever, but if it’s only because you think I give a shit about what your father told Frank… I don’t. I’m not here to judge you, what you’ve done and why. I’m here to show you around and make sure you get through this summer without dying. And for whatever it’s worth to you, it’s good having somebody a bit closer to my age around, God knows I haven’t had that since everybody took off.” A bitter smirk distorted his face. “And if by some lucky coincidence I manage to convince you that we’re more than just brainless rednecks or whatever it is that you see us as, quite hypocritical of you to make assumptions and complain about people making ones regarding you, if I say so myself, it’s cool. If not and you still perceive us as such when you leave, it’s fine too. So please, get off that high horse of yours, let yourself loose and maybe you’ll see that being a bumpkin sometimes can be a whole lot of fun.”

Louis knew he was blushing, profusely, very fucking embarrassed under the scrutiny of Harry’s piercing gaze. He always hated being called out like that, even if not a lot of people actually dared to do that, and with Harry doing it without a trace of hesitation… ouch. The funniest thing of all was that he actually tried to tone down. Having his basic attitude to compare, he found his behaviour far less annoying than he would usually be. 

If that’s what the man thought about him now… he couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of ‘normal’ Louis. Maybe the direct approach was better to swallow, maybe it was worse. It only caused him to relive every second spent on that damn farm and evaluate whether he really acted as spoiled as Harry claimed he has.

“That came out harsher than I thought it would.” An apologetic look was thrown at the teen who just sat there, mouth parted in shock. “I just wanted to tell you that neither of us hate you. I know Frank’s… _specific_ , and I do not expect you to hit it off with him, but Ada… she doesn’t resent you and neither do I obviously. She just doesn’t know how to talk to you. Cut her some slack, she’s really trying.”

Louis was almost… in awe how this man sent his ass straight to kindergarten to get schooled in good manners. He didn’t hold back in fear of hurting his feelings. He confronted him on his bullshit, knowing that his childish behaviour affected Ada. 

There was something in the way how Harry was maybe the first person that didn’t look down on him, that treated him like a fucking adult he was, that paradoxically made him like the guy even more than before he called him out on his bullshit, and he was already quite fond of that guy as it was.

“Why would the winter be hard?” Louis asked like the last few minutes of their conversation haven’t happened.

“The drought.” Harry said as if it was the most obvious thing, because… it was. Louis felt stupid for even asking. “It’s really up to God whether anything more than corn will hold up. As much as I can save water here and there, there really is no way to water all the crops so it’s still profitable.” He quietly agreed on not addressing the situation from a minute ago.

“Oh, I get that. Dumb question.” Lou’s head shook in disbelief in his own wooziness. To be fair, they were working on these bales for _hours_ , the sun long gone from the sky, a single lightbulb hanging off a cord did a poor job of providing light, far better one at being a huge fire hazard, at least in Lou’s eyes but what did he know about electricity?

“There are no dumb questions.” The man repeated that one for like a third time since they’ve met. “If you ever want to know something, shoot.”

Unable to find any more questions he would like to have answered, other than how long till he goes to sleep, Louis remained silent. They just relaxed in the barn for a bit, scrambling some energy to walk to the house, mosquitos being a great motivator for them to get the hell out of there.

And they did eventually, Harry giving his friend the green light to go and take a shower first, as he still had Raven to lead to the paddock. The logic behind brunette’s plan was stronger than the one backing up Louis’, who maybe wanted to accompany his friend in the task. He hasn’t argued though, knowing that with both of them being as tired as they were, they had to be efficient with their time and resources, a tiny bathroom in that case.

It was a first in his life when Louis was too tired to care about filling his stomach for the night. With lunch being his last meal, he laid to bed before Harry even got to his room, falling asleep so fast, he had no idea when the man came back.


	3. Chapter 3

The lighting conditions alarmed the boy as soon as his eyes snapped open after what it felt like years of sleep. Having yet to look at the clock by his bed, too lazy to do that, he already knew that it was later than the seven in the morning he had an alarm set to. Waking up with Harry at five in the morning still sounded like a scenario straight out of a horror movie, but he was, slowly but surely, getting there. With an alarm set to seven, a whole load of snoozes he, more or less consciously pressed, he managed to be up by nine, and that was already a success with his usual wake up at noon.

With the question hanging in the stuffy air of his bedroom, his window closed even though he sure as hell hasn't done that, he let his hand dart to the place where the clock usually laid. Surprisingly enough, he found nothing, not where he remembered it being, not anywhere else on his bedside table. Only a glass he managed to knock to the floor during his blind investigation, the heavens on his side this time with it both being empty and landing on the carpet, rolling under the bed.

Curiosity got the best of him, propelling him out of bed, his whole skeleton snapping and cracking as he, in a routine exercise, though it was stupid to even call it like that, leaned down a few times, touching the carpet with the tips of his fingers as he tried to get his bones back in order after the night on that horrible mattress.

Not finding the clock anywhere, he padded his way to the bathroom, very fucking confused with the mystery as he was quite sure that he would've noticed if the device was missing when he was going to sleep… fine, some doubt could be shed on that claim with how tired he was. Hell, maybe in a sleepy daze, he tossed the damn thing out of the window, opting out of that early wake-up call.

The morning routine consisting of quick pee and brushing of his teeth might as well not have happened at all, only the wet bristles of his toothbrush indicating that he got through the steps as he kind of blacked out, still not yet fully awake from his slumber.

When he was done with the two steps of his very minimal routine, a few more to go through later when he's conscious enough to trust himself with not confusing his sunblock with toothpaste or something like that, he opted for the second pair of the door leading out of the bathroom. He flung them open, only then thinking that he should have knocked because Harry was an adult and adults sometimes did… things. Oh well, he hasn't done that, so there was no use beating himself about it.

Harry, obviously, was up to no mischief, a book in his hands as he half-sat on his bed, a thin, floral sheet coming to just below his nipples, the gorgeous tan of his skin only further amplified by the golden beams falling through the window he had opened all the way up.

"I can't find my clock." He complained, allowing himself to sit on the edge of the brunette's bed, that preposterous grievance pulling Harry's focused gaze off the page he was reading, the book snapping closed around a finger he had stuck in between the pages as some sort of bookmark.

The man pointed a finger of his other hand to his bedside table, where two, very different alarm clocks were standing next to each other. "Found it." The rasp of his voice both there, but strangely muffled by the grogginess that only indicated that it wasn't long since the man woke up. "I forgot to tell you that we're sleeping in on Saturdays, so I took it." Broad shoulders shrugged as if it was the single most normal thing to do.

It wasn't. Invasion of privacy much? Yeah, it would be stupid to even mention that aspect now that he practically busted through this man's door without as little as a knock. "I thought ghosts." His hand found his face, rubbing his sleepy eyes aggressively. "We need to switch rooms." He asked, no… demanded more like, lazily dragging his gaze over Harry's living quarters that were quite a few notches better than his situation. The bed was the biggest temptation, not double just yet, though significantly wider than his single one.

"And why is that?" Genuine interest was visible in the man's features.

Surprised that he wasn't immediately shut down, Louis found himself struggling to find actual arguments supporting his demand. "Your bed is bigger."

"It is indeed." The man nodded just barely so, pissing his younger friend off with that front, acting like he was stupid or something. "That's why I picked this room for myself, amongst other things."

"But I want it." Lou's distaste for the word 'no' shone right there. His sleepiness hasn't helped, adding to that fussy toddler look he was now sporting.

Biting down on the inside of his cheek, Harry stopped himself from smiling. "Oh, come on! It's barely bigger." The demand completely disregarded with a gesture of his big hand.

"It's like proper ten inches." The boy made a shot in the dark with that claim, never really great at assessing things with his eyes only. "Or are you one of those who see ten inches as not that much?" A playful smirk bent his lips as he air-quoted Harry's own words. Only when the lips snapped closed after he let those words hang in the air, he realised that perhaps he shouldn't be as open with sexual innuendos as he was with his usual friends.

"Fine, it's yours if you want it so bad." The roll of his green eyes filled Louis with hope that perhaps he hasn't trashed all his effort by quite so obviously exposing his, hmm… unorthodox way of living.

Because see, he was scared of that. Being his flamboyant self, never really thinking before speaking, the clearest example just then, there wasn't a chance he would go long without anybody catching onto him. From what he's googled before coming there, he knew that generally, people in Wisconsin weren't exactly biggest allies, the deeper into the country, the less accepting they tended to be. And with that, there was always this threat of being exposed and repercussions that he would have to endure, not aware of his current housemates' outlook on the situation. From his quite brief encounters with Frank, he really hasn't seen that man as one of the good ones, that's why he decided it's better to stay away, not that it was his only motivation behind that.

Harry hasn't commented though, either not catching onto him just yet, or simply not caring. Whatever. It's still better if he contains himself until he gets back home, where he was more or less accepted with that quirk of his.

"When are we getting up then?" He inquired, wondering if he's going to be able to squeeze in a little nap before the time comes for them to head to the market, an activity which Louis wasn't exactly looking forward to.

"Half an hour ago." The taller man chuckled, visibly unappreciative of the deadline, he slid himself from under the cover, sitting right next to Louis, clothes limited to a pair of simple boxer briefs on his narrow hips. "I was being lazy." He explained, words distorted by a yawn as he opened the book and bent the very corner of the page he was reading, tossing the book onto the pillow.

"I didn't know you were even able to be lazy." Louis commented, reaching for the very used copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, Harry was somewhere in the middle of. "Don't you have a bookmark or something?" His face scrunched in a grimace once he took notice of the fact that the man was a recurring offender of what was one of his biggest pet peeves, fucking dog ears that ruined the whole book.

"Oh, shush." The man took the book from unsuspecting boy's hands and pushed it under the mattress, getting up immediately. "Go get dressed, we're late already."

And that's precisely what Louis has done, he got dressed. Not long later, after putting quite a load of eggs in the back of the truck, they were on their way to the town, skipping on breakfast as Harry insisted they will get something to eat there.

Louis sat on a milk crate, very obviously unappreciative of the swelter and all the… people. Seriously, he knew for a fact that nowhere near as many people lived there, so, where the hell did they come from? Partially hidden behind a fold-up table, nibbling on some apple-filled pastry Harry got them for breakfast, he observed as his superior mingled with whoever it was that came up to trade, didn't even matter whether he knew them or not.

"We don't have many left, shouldn't be that long." The brunette reassured, not even pretending that Louis' attitude wasn't visible for anybody around. "Don't be so grumpy, you have a whole day to yourself after that. Tomorrow too!" He nudged Lou's foot with his shoe, redirecting his focus to a customer.

And Louis hasn't exactly expected… that. It kind of made sense that Harry wasn't slaving away seven days a week, but somehow he hasn't thought about downtime. Not that it mattered, it's not like he would have any plans to make even if he knew he was going to get time off.

"How are you going to use your weekend?" The taller man asked, sitting on the second crate they've brought just for that purpose.

"No idea." Louis shrugged, his head tilting to the source of blood-chilling screeching of some kid. "I'll just probably hang around the stables and nap." His face grimaced at his own plan.

"Or you could go with me." Styles proposed, trying to rid of that look on Lou's face. "Though your plan sounds rather nice, I cannot deny."

"Where to?" The boredom lingered in his voice as he expected to be invited to Harry's mother's again or something equally as weird.

"Shopping." The borderline irritated roll of the man's eyes at the thought of doing shopping was a complete opposite of the rush that spilt over Louis in reaction to the simple word. "I've ruined my last pair of jeans last week, so it's more a necessity than choice. It's a bit of a drive, but…"

"Yes, please." The teen hasn't even let his friend finish, excitement stifled as soon as he realised how completely idiotic he had to sound. "Sounds better than anything I had in mind."

Significantly cheered up by the possibility of escaping the farm, even if for a few hours, he observed as Harry made deals with people, the sour look gone from his face as he waited for the eggs to end so they could get the fuck out.

He was looping around his thoughts, expression very obviously distant when Harry's voice pulled him out of that place.

"Mary, this dress does everything for you and even more." The boy complimented a woman that approached their stand, very apparently a returning client. "A dozen, as usual?" The man inquired, already putting eggs into a brown paper bag.

"Thank you, Harry. Such a polite boy, you." A wide grin bent her thin lips at the compliment, crow's feet deepening around her eyes with the expression. "I think I could use four more this week."

Harry nodded just barely so, both him and the woman oblivious to Lou's bright eyes, observing the interaction very carefully in his peripheral vision. "Oh, my apple crumble senses are tingling. Is it that time of the year already?"

"You and your senses." The woman flung her dainty hand as she chuckled. "Not once wrong. I've been getting round to baking for a while now, can't seem to motivate myself with the weather and all."

"Yeah, the swelter is just merciless." The brunette man agreed, scrunching the top of the bag closed, still holding it on the table, apparently not eager to end the pleasant exchange.

Louis had to hold the scoff as he saw his friend acting like the woman's baking was a bigger effort than what he was doing on the daily.

"Consider yourself invited for the crumble." The lady started digging through her purse for a wallet. "From Tuesday you have two days before my boys get through every tin."

Harry joined in a chuckle, Louis in awe that he didn't seem even a bit fake in all of this. "Only if you guarantee I won't get bruised for stealing a piece or two."

"Oh, don't be silly." She dismissed his words with a gesture of her hand. "There's plenty to go around. Bring your friend too, if he wills to come, of course."

"If we can find a minute, we'll be there." Louis, feeling like it was his cue, stood up, awkwardly smiling at the middle-aged woman. "This is Louis, by the way." Still smiling. "Louis, this is Mary, our local baking extraordinaire and the main lady of our church." Tomlinson almost scoffed with how absolutely unnecessary this kiss-ass fest was. "Louis came for the summer to help me out a bit." The teen reached to shake the woman's hand, getting back to his spot right after, uncertain if he wasn't committing some serious faux pas.

"That much work?" The lady back to addressing Harry. "I barely remember my years on the farm and it's been barely a decade since we sold the land."

"Right now it's the matter of keeping everything we can from dying."

"The drought really makes itself known, doesn't it?"

Harry sighed, frustration making it through in his features. "If we don't get rain soon, Frank and Ada are going to have a hard winter." The furrow stayed in his eyebrows, another customer approaching the stand, greeting the vendor with a nod of his head.

"I'll make sure to send a prayer for them tomorrow." Mary pressed her lips together in a caricature of a smile.

"Very appreciated, thank you."

"I won't be taking more of your boys' time, Betty is dropping by for some lemonade and gossip." Her mood elevated on an instant, only making it more obvious how fake this worried front was, at least that's what Louis observed from his seat.

"You girls and your gossip!" Harry shook his head, not worried about the authenticity of that small talk. "Keeping the lines to the confessional so long, I can never get a one-on-one with the big man!" His nimble fingers fixed the top of the bag once again, making sure it's tight.

"As if you had any sinning on your conscience, you angel of a boy!" The lady completely disregarded Harry's words, apparently knowing better than the man about his behaviour and sins he had under his belt, her opinion fully based on the fakest small talk Louis has ever witnessed. "How much do I owe you?"

"Just the usual, a special offer for our most loyal clients." Once again, Louis had a hard time keeping his food down at Harry's expert bullshitting. Say what you want about that man, but he was born to be a salesperson. "I will be contacting you about that dress though. I think mom would love one of these, of course if you still take orders."

"Absolutely." They've exchanged the goods, Harry carelessly shoving the money into the pocket of his shorts, his naivety showing in how he hasn't even counted it. "So thoughtful, Anne won a lottery with a boy like you."

Harry chuckled, this one not nearly as forced as it should have been. "Say hi to Betty from me. Barry too! It was good seeing you today."

"You too, Harry. Always a pleasure." The woman secured the bag in her both hands and walked away from the stand.

Harry quickly moved to serve another customer, the elderly man not nearly as chatty as the woman, who left Louis so absolutely exhausted with a conversation that he was barely a part of.

"What about these?" The brunette walked out of the changing room, a pair of blue denim Levi's hugging his legs. With hands propped on his hips, he waited for an opinion of a boy who sat at the very edge of a couch designated for all the plus-ones, as far from everybody as he managed, which was not far at all considering that it was Saturday and everybody swarmed places like the outlet mall they ended up in.

Louis' cocked his head to the right, scrutinising the fit of the jeans that out of the five pairs Harry already tried on, was already looking the best. "Have a little spin for me." His index finger spun in a circle. With the most bored look on his face, Harry complied, clearly showing his attitude towards shopping. "Oh, these do everything for your ass! So fabulously, astonishingly breathtaking!" Both him and Harry knew he was taking the piss out of Styles, but other people surely did not, looking at the teen like he was a crazy person, which… he couldn't really blame them for.

"Cool, I'll take them in every colour then." The man chuckled and disappeared in the dressing room, quickly changing back into his shorts and leaving with the whole arm full of jeans he insisted on returning onto their rightful places instead of dumping them for the employees to take care of.

Louis, like everybody else probably would, thought Harry was joking when he said he'll take multiple of the same pair of jeans, but he really has not. Now that they were leaving with a bag full of the same cut of pants in every colour available in the brunette's size, he realised he should've known better than believe that this Harry person cared about having variety in his wardrobe.

After just a few days spent on the farm, the boy was surprised to see how absolutely unbearable it was to be around so many people, and the number of shoppers was barely a fraction of what he was dealing with at home. "Are we done yet?" His whining met with a confused look on Harry's face.

"What, missing the farm already?" With a grin on his face, the man nudged his friend's side as they made their way out of the biggest crowd.

Louis let that remark hang in the air to hopefully die, his answer to the question obvious from the start. They just walked towards the parking, the smaller one still questioning whether it was a pit stop or they were leaving, not-so-secretly hoping for the latter. His dreams became true once Harry slid himself onto the driving seat, pretty explicitly putting an end to their already brief shopping adventure.

With a loud growl of the engine of Harry's truck, they left the mall parking lot, exhausted by not even an hour they've spent in the store.

"What is that?" Louis inquired about the noise that filled the cabin of the truck as soon as they passed the border of the small town that was their destination. At first, he was almost certain that it was his brain pulling tricks on him, because really, what would that be in the middle of fucking nowhere? But the closer they were getting, Louis' head halfway out of the open window, ears tweaked like he was some kind of bat as he was trying to prove his sanity if only just to himself, the music got louder. A minute or so after they crossed the border, the noise was prominent enough that it was audible even over the roar of the engine, at that point, there was no denying that it was real.

Harry's reaction hasn't indicated that it was something the younger boy imagined either, the lack of one the biggest giveaway. Eyes stuck to the road stretching ahead of them, the furrow of his eyebrows only showing how focused he was as the dump of the town had maybe three streetlamps lining the main area where small businesses were located, Harry remained composed. "It's a… thing we do on summer weekends."

Intrigued, Louis unglued himself from the window that was doing a poor job of being a substitute for air conditioning that this 1977 Ford just simply did not have, turning his whole body towards Harry, comfortably slouched on the seat the two of them were sharing, a whole another person easily able to fit in between them. "This sounds like you're trying to conceal a cult." His face grew serious, arms crossed on his chest as he scrutinised his friend's profile, a familiar aroma of countryside flaring his nostrils after a few hours he was devoid of it. "Do you think I haven't read Children of the Corn?"

"I wouldn't suspect that you have, no."

The teen almost chose the outraged act from the catalogue, dropping it immediately for a truthful approach that came out of nowhere. "Okay, I watched the movie. Which is essentially the same thing."

"It's so not!" The brunette man snapped back to life, looking at his companion like he was giving a ride to a mad man.

And Louis just rolled his eyes, because that's what one of the most used reactions from his repertoire was, overused, some might say. "Whatever, I am not getting murdered here."

"It's not… a cult." Harry scoffed, eyes still stuck on the road, the music louder and louder as they slowly rolled down the main road. "Cult's on Thursdays." The unsuspected joke elicited a smirk from the shorter boy. "It's like… a thing? People just go there to hang out around each other I guess. Get drunk in some cases."

"Sounds like something I would hate." Yeah… not really his thing. People? Nope. Drunk people? Absolutely not.

"Yeah, that's what I think as well."

Feeling a bit daring for whatever reason, maybe because that day was strangely ordinary, at least since Harry and he drove off to the town, Louis found himself asking. "Can we go?"

"If that's what you wish." The man shrugged, taking a turn left off the main road, the music louder and louder until they came to a halt, their arrival unnoticed by a whole bunch of people grouped in the common space that served as some sort of park, a place for people to gather for things like… that.

The regret struck as soon as Louis jumped out of the elevated cabin of Harry's old truck, the man following right after. If the boy was asked, he would say that it was way too late for kids to be running around the monkey bars, especially as unsupervised as they were while the adults were mingling in the distance under some sort of canopy.

Not wanting to be an absolute pain in the ass, he decided against urging Harry to leave before they even properly got there, though the country melody that was just simply too sloppy to not be played live, worked like a magic spell, making him feel unwelcome on an instant.

The two of them neared the construction from the side, standing a bit to the right as Louis hung his eyes on the… band, that word already a huge compliment. With arms crossed on his chest, he observed as four elderly men provided dubious entertainment for people that treated their musical endeavours more like background noise to their respective conversations rather than the main event. Harry just stood behind him, letting him live through the cultural shock, tapping his foot to a rhythm of the song that was played by the amateur cover band.

"God, that hurts." Louis only commented on the efforts of the grandpas, clearly not very serious as they covered a song that he recognised as Johnny Cash's I Walk The Line. At least they had fun, yeah? More than he had, that's for sure, the slurred enunciation of the vocalist indicative of a drink or two they more than likely indulged in prior to the performance, not that it was surprising with the number of Solo cups matching a frat party from a teen movie, scattered on every flat surface available, some clutched in the hands of the socialising people. "Is that Ada?" Clearly amused, Louis inquired, not expecting to see the woman there with how serious she always seemed to him.

She sure as fuck hasn't seemed like that now, with cheeks flushed conversing with a taller gentleman, salt and pepper goatee deforming with how freakishly wide his mouth opened while he entertained her with a conversation they couldn't have possibly heard from where they were standing.

"What can I say besides 'I told you so'?" Harry laughed, his lips closer to Lou's ear than their height difference usually made them, the man apparently deeming his words important enough to lean in. "You want to leave?"

Half too shy to say that he did, in fact, want to leave, half interested in more of that social butterfly Harry he encountered just earlier this day, his answer turned out less obvious than he would anticipate it to. "Not yet."

They were making their way towards the table, gingham tablecloth barely visible from under an array of snacks people brought to the party, when Harry stopped in his tracks, his change of course very evident even with Louis not looking at him as they stayed quite close.

The second the teen turned to uncover the source of that encounter, Harry was already a part of a group, politely pecking a cheek of a woman quite a few inches shorter than him, though Louis didn't need the affectionate greeting to deduct that they were blood-related.

"This is Louis, the guy I've told you about." Gentlemanly as always, the brunette man hasn't left his companion hanging.

And the boy smiled, because what else was there to do? Shaking the woman's dainty hand in a brief greeting, he scanned her face to find every similarity to the man standing to her side.

"Anne, Harry's mom. So nice to meet you, Louis." Her smile shone almost as bright as her son's, almost. "How do you find the small town life? A bit different than New York, isn't it?"

"Yeah, a bit." The teen chuckled, awkwardly shifting his hands, unsure of what to do with them before he let them just hang by his sides. He tried not to act surprised because as much as he didn't care that Harry told his mother where he was from, his hometown not something that he kept secret, he couldn't find a moment when the man had a chance to tell her that, the two of them almost inseparable since that detail of his life was uncovered. "Thankfully, this one is an excellent babysitter." With one of his hands, he presented Harry, who was looking over his mother's shoulder at something Louis simply couldn't see.

"When have you two gotten here? Haven't seen you earlier, have I missed you?" The woman inquired, her eyes darting from one face to another.

"We've just popped in for a minute, Louis was curious." The tallest of the three explained. "I don't think we're staying long. Just enough to steal some food." Louis tried to look like Harry just told his mother that the two of them were planning to rob a bank, not a buffet that was there for people to take stuff from, to begin with.

"Don't you dare to leave without saying hi to grandpa, he told me you haven't visited him in ages!" The woman's voice stern as she scolded her offspring.

"I will if they stop hogging the stage." His neck twisted to glance at the band, the song changing into something Louis couldn't recognise, not that he was exceptionally educated in country music. Far from that. "Though I've seen him on Monday so I'd hardly say it's been ages."

"Well, he forgets." The woman excused the family member. "Come get me when you two are leaving, I think my ride is walking home today." She looked over to the side, eyes quickly darting back to the two boys in front of her.

"Of course." Harry only nodded and pulled his friend away before he could farewell the woman, maybe it was better since the two of them apparently were going to see each other again.

Standing by the snack table, scooping a generous dollop of artichoke dip onto a cracker, Louis decided to nudge the topic he thought he should address. "So, you're telling me…" He took a bite to excuse the pause he needed there for the sake of drama only. "That one of these extremely handsome and talented gentlemen is your grandfather?" His eyes skipped to the side, gauging his companion's reaction, not much in terms of that as Harry chewed through a pig in a blanket.

"Yeah." The man only shrugged, completely unaffected by the fact that his grandpa's band was roasted by the teen not more than five minutes ago. "The frontman, naturally."

To be frank, no matter how hard he squinted his eyes, Tomlinson had a hard time seeing the resemblance. "Sorry for the…" He still found himself apologising, struggling to finish the sentence.

"Don't be." The apology was disregarded with a gesture of a hand, Styles taking a sip of sour lemonade before he moved to another plate, tossing a small tartelette into his mouth. "They're just having fun, it's hardly anything serious." Another sip chased the bite, the man coming back for a second pig in a blanket "For each their own, as they say."

"I guess." He hasn't thought Harry would take offence in his words, no actual malice behind them, but he'd rather keep it safe before he loses the only person that hasn't considered him a total burden, or maybe just did a good job of covering that he did. Whatever it was, Louis couldn't let himself lose that. "Guess Frank's miraculously cured." His head nodded ever so slightly in the direction of a group of three men, sat on fold-up chairs with a cup in the hand of each.

His supposition ended up being correct, the one he made just this morning when Frank, very obviously unwell, decided to stay home for the day. No matter how many times he claimed that it was his gout that was acting up, his entire being screamed hangover, quite a surprising diagnosis considering that this motherfucker seemed to be immune with how much he drank.

Whether it was actually gout or hangover, none of that favoured drinking, and that's exactly what the man was doing with his pals. Apparently, he was too miserable to work, his condition justifying bailing on two other boys he employed, but not letting his pals down, right?

Frank's other employees were much younger than Harry, younger than Louis even, which made it so easy for that asshole to rip them off money-wise, as Styles told him while they were giving rides home to these kids, picking them up from the usual place they were meeting Frank. The man was aware of his boss' doing, a victim of the same treatment somewhere in the past. However, he decided not to intervene, apparently learning a lesson on the value of their time and standing up for themselves more beneficial for the boys than somebody else fighting their battles.

Louis could see that being true, but he couldn't shake this feeling that he should somehow help, even if just to stir the pot a bit, motivate them to revolt. Maybe his attitude was prompted by actual concern about these boys being exploited, maybe by his genuine hatred towards Frank, that each and every day grew stronger and stronger. Perhaps both. Whatever his intentions were, it didn't really matter as long as something good came out of it, right?

He didn't get the chance to rouse these guys a bit, the two teens sitting with their bikes on the bed of Harry's truck as they sped through the unpaved road, their laughter audible in the cabin as they bounced during their turbulent commute. And maybe Louis got a bit envious of them as they sat there, some strange curiosity making itself known as soon as he realised, stupidly late, that there was even an option to ride there, no matter the legality of that way of transporting people, those kinds of regulations taken loosely with nobody around to institute punishment for breaking them.

"Guess they weren't lying when they said that moonshine has magical properties." Styles snorted against the piece of finger food Louis simply couldn't identify, all but surprised when he swept his eyes over the group his boss was a part of. "The one time I drank it, I was out of business for three whole days." His head shook at the memory he brought back.

"So, you advise against stealing some for myself when the boredom gets the best of me?" With a cocked eyebrow, the boy inquired, immediately rushing back to the table even though he wasn't even hungry, half of the huge pizza he split with Harry on their way back still weighing on his stomach.

"Yeah, if you want to make it out alive."

He bit down on his tongue, stopping the remark that perhaps dying wasn't the worst-case scenario at the moment, and fell silent, his mouth too busy chewing whatever he could get his hands on. The minutes passed as he was lingering around the table, eyes fixed on Harry, who by the neighbours was treated like this whole gathering was thrown for him, even though, as far as Louis was aware, was not the case at all.

Maybe he hasn't felt exactly unwelcome, but there was this tiniest part of him that felt a bit alienated. Sure, it was his own goddamned fault, standing there, to the side like an idiot instead of tagging along with his friend, even if only to shake some people's hands or something. But he hasn't, and now he sort of regretted it, but not really.

The feeling was puzzling, in the sense that he had a hard time understanding where the hell did any of that come from, that as in this sudden urge for mingling with people whom he still claimed he wanted nothing to do with.

Or perhaps he was just lonely. Yeah, it had to be that. Separated from his friends, his social meter was somewhere around zero, even if he wasn't really a very extraverted person, to begin with. At the moment, he had only Harry keeping him sane. So this sudden pull he felt towards the people that were still just a bunch of strangers to him, could be explained with the solitude that was imposed onto him.

Louis sat perched atop the windowsill, lazily dragging his eyes over the page of the book he borrowed to occupy himself since there was absolutely nothing else he could've done instead. There is only so much one can spend sleeping. For once, the boy was actually excited to take advantage of his new bed, the trade completed once Harry and he got back. However, the buzz he still felt in his veins, result of the party they've barely left, made it really quite obvious that nobody was falling asleep in that room just yet.

So, he just sat there, halfway out of the window, the only available seat other than the bed since for whatever reason, he didn't feel like reading there, pacing himself for the main event he deemed laying his tortured body on the (hopefully) more comfortable mattress. Yeah, yeah, he should know better than let his expectations get out of hand, but it was Louis, and Louis was exactly that person.

With earbuds shoved in his ears, his iPod classic was tingling his eardrums with a melody of a song he hasn't heard in at least five years. It was still better than nothing at all, with the re-discovery of the device somewhere in the bottom of a long-forgotten desk drawer, he only had a day to fill it with however much mp3s and porn the 80 gigabytes storage managed to hold, so he didn't even bother removing whatever purchases his fourteen-year-old self made before the thing was put to rest when the smartphones rendered it redundant.

Just when a blast from the past in the shape of a Jonas Brothers' song came to an end, Nick still near and dear to his heart, in the corner of his eye, he caught the bathroom door opening, a head of dark brunette locks peeking in before the man noticed that it's okay if he lets himself inside the bedroom that was still his just this morning.

Tugging the earbuds out, Louis paused the music and raised his head to look at the guest. He stayed silent, question evident enough in the gaze he threw at Harry.

"Hey." The guest croaked, Louis scoffing as if the two of them didn't see each other maybe an hour ago, the goodnight they've told each other after they switched rooms apparently not definite. "I forgot my book." Quickly explaining his reason to be there, he approached the bed.

Harry reached under the mattress, completely disregarding the effort it took Louis to so neatly make the bed, something he usually wouldn't do at all, now just adding to the anticipation of the first night that might as well be the best one in his life, no matter that he was pretty fucking sure he was severely overhyping the bed he traded for. But he got it, even if he was sceptical towards the success of that mission, the only thing he had to thank for this achievement, was his unreasonable sense of entitlement that came straight from the fact that he was spoiled rotten, and Harry's effortless ability to always be the better person.

Meh… In the grand scheme of things, seeming like a brat was a small price to pay for the extra ten inches of mattress he was going to enjoy for the few weeks he still had to survive at the farm, especially now that he knew Harry wasn't exactly the one to hold these outbursts against him. Well… maybe he judged, that not exactly something the teen could've known, but at least his superior wasn't voicing his distaste whenever a flashback of that Louis, made it through the filter that even as thorough as it was so far, sometimes had a hole or two.

He eyed the book he had in his lap and slapped it closed, not certain whether he was going to be coming back to the position he picked up from the bookcase in Harry's mother's house when the two of them dropped the woman off, and Harry insisted they had to come in for a moment so he could get some things. And of course, having Anne by his side, he couldn't exactly say no to that, insisting seeming like he had something against the woman when, in reality, he did not. Sure, he didn't know his friend's mom, but she never gave him any reason to be hostile towards her, unlike Frank, who did exactly that during their very first interaction.

"See, I knew that there was something behind this spotless front, but I would hardly chose paedophilia as my first shot." With hard accusation in his expression, obviously playing it out for the drama, he tossed the copy of Death in Venice back onto the stack of a few other books Harry thought he would enjoy. The first position, quite a chunk of it read due to its compact size, a big miss with him, not filling him with a lot of hope for the next ones.

And Harry just stood there, mouth parted before he realised what his companion was talking about. "It's fiction, Louis." He sighed, maybe just a bit relieved after realising that there were no other grounds for the teen to accuse him of being depraved in such a way. He made a beeline towards the stack of books and picked up the story in question, tapping his fingertips on the hardcover. "You're reading too much into it." He dropped the book where he found it, making advances at Louis, his leg thrown over to the other side of the very window the boy was sitting, the second one following and soon enough, he was already out on the top of the roof stretching over the front porch.

Very obviously expected to do that, Louis followed, taking caution of the monster of a spider Harry kept as a pet in the corner of his window. "You're sure this is not going to collapse?" He asked, testing the rigidity of the construction with his feet.

"I vouch with my honour that it is safe." The man looked over his shoulder to see the teen who, a bit reassured with the claim, sit down next to him, knees drawn under his chin. "We built it with Frank and Tucker when the old one was no good." Harry stretched his legs, his feet just a few inches from the end of the slightly sloped roof. "Their youngest one, moved out… three summers ago, I think."

Louis couldn't even hold the scoff, perhaps a bit too loud for the late hour that snuck upon them, but only then he remembered that Frank and Ada weren't even home yet. "Tucker?!" Outraged, would be a good word to use. "Their dog is named Charlie, and they name their kid Tucker?!"

Absolutely fucking not, he could not believe it. And here he thought that his father hated him. Well… maybe he did, it wouldn't be surprising, but at least he didn't have a dog's name.

"Yeah, that's… unfortunate." Harry's words enough for Tomlinson to know that his opinion wasn't uncommon.

"Any more dog names in the family?" Louis inquired, laying on the roof, legs bent in knees as he looked to the side, gauging his friend's reaction, not exactly a good position to do this from since all he could see the back of his head.

"No, the other two weren't hurt like that." His chuckle was almost overpowered by the strangely loud chirping of crickets, living their respective insect lives hidden in the dry weeds surrounding the farmhouse.

"Could you do something about that little friend of yours in the window? I might just puke at the sight of it." Louis snarked when he heard Harry coming back from wherever it was that he wandered, leaving his companion alone. Tomlinson remained still, lying there, the tiles a bit uncomfortable on his back, the thin cotton of his tee-shirt, not enough of a cushion to protect his skin.

He heard Harry's breath hitching in something that must've been a chuckle, though he hasn't cared enough to check since that would require him to move, and that wasn't something he felt like doing just yet.

"Oh, her?" The man sat in his previous spot, the enormous size of that spider even more evident when Louis could very much see it crawling over the palm Harry held in front of his face, far too close in the teen's opinion. "You can't possibly evict a pregnant lady, can you?" His usually pleasant voice was tainted by this cooing as if he was speaking to a child, some of the same thing making the cameo just two hours ago when he was, in fact, talking with kids that were just as fond of him as old ladies were, using his tall silhouette as some kind of playground, hanging off his long limbs and pretty much climbing onto his head.

Louis, day after day, pitied the man more and more. Because see, Harry seemed like it was just so effortless to him, this larger than life approach while very magnetising, even the boy sometimes letting himself get charmed by it, it surely couldn't be all that authentic, could it? Not in Lou's world, absolutely not.

It was both disgusting and somehow, in a very strange way, captivating how comfortable the man was around a thing Louis was surprised he wasn't running away from just yet. Well, spiders weren't that bad. Being raised in New York City, one has to get accustomed to all things disgusting, but he sure as fuck was not fond of them. As much as this scene was compromised by the arachnid running between his friend's fingers, he couldn't take his eyes off it, though he was more or less consciously blanking the repulsive creature, just as if it was not there at all.

"I can evict her and that's precisely what I am doing." He snorted, snapping away from that brief distraction he let himself get overtaken by. "Should I be worried that you haven't even really defended yourself when I called you a pedo?" The topic changed; Louis, feeling a bit daring, coming back to his previous accusation.

He regretted doing that, the second he heard Harry exhale, sharp and very clearly exasperated, the spider off his hand, dropped by the very edge of the roof, kindly enough as far from Louis as it was physically possible. "I don't do that anymore."

"DO WHAT?" The teen, with a strange mixture of shock and amusement on his face, confronted his friend about the ambiguity of his words. "Molest kids?!" He laughed, of course, not being serious in any of this.

The taller man laid next to Louis, just an inch or two of space between them. He hasn't said anything, bright light falling on his face from what the boy observed, was his own iPod the man was now shuffling through. "Care." His shoulders shrugged, the movement only caught as Lou was trying to keep a cap on the screen of his device, knowing that there's really nothing he could do to prevent the farmer from finding his stash of (very gay) porn if he chooses to explore the video folder rather than the music one.

"You don't seem like you don't care." Unapologetically, because it was his own damn thing, Louis tugged on one of the earbuds a second after Harry pushed it into his ear and stole it for himself.

Occupied with the iPod, Styles didn't seem like he had anything to say to that, settling on shuffling the entire playlist that came to something around two thousand tracks.

And yep, of course, the first one was embarrassing as fuck, so here's to having any sort of respect left in Harry's eyes. Whatever.

"Well, I do not." The brunette spoke over the quiet tune of whatever song that shuffled, skipping through the tracks mere seconds after they've started. "I used to and nothing good ever came out of it, so I don't anymore."

Aware enough to know that it was not a good idea to inquire, even if he was curious what exactly came out of Harry caring about what other people thought about him, Louis stayed quiet, getting increasingly more irritated with every song that was skipped after a split second, deemed unacceptable by the older guy.

So they just laid there, looking up to the stars that brightened the impenetrable blackness of the night, the light in Louis' room turned off by Harry when he went to fetch the iPod. It must've been at least half an hour, maybe seven songs played, and a countless number of other tracks skipped when bright headlights lit up the farmhouse.

"Shush." The taller man pressed a finger to his lips and laid flat, Louis following just to make sure they weren't going to get caught by Frank and Ada, who were dropped off by whoever it was that drove the car. Uncertain why was it even so important that they stay unnoticed, Tomlinson hasn't fought with his superior, suspecting that there had to be some reason for that unusual behaviour.

Two, grown-ass men laid on the top of the roof, involuntarily eavesdropping on a slurry conversation for longer than they would like to, hiding like two kids very close to being caught doing something they weren't supposed to do.

When the hosts finally got into their house, the car speeding away into the darkness, Louis started laughing, cautious of his volume, even if he doubted he would ever manage to overpower the fervent yapping of the dogs that constituted to the soundtrack of the night for a lot longer than there was a reason for them to.

"What?" Harry inquired, visibly interested in the source of the bizarre reaction. There was a smirk on his lips that might have relieved Louis a bit, that brief beat of seriousness sent away to the past, forgotten. "What's so funny?" He urged, his patience running low even though barely any time had passed since the teen started laughing.

"Are we going to get grounded?" Tomlinson rolled to the side, head propped on an elbow as he pressed a button on his iPod and changed a song Harry hasn't seemed to dislike, keeping it on when his friend would rather shove the device down his throat then let that song play through.

With a furrow in his eyebrows, the brunette looked up at his companion, visibly disapproving of the change of the track. "Hey, I like this one." Harry protested, stubbornly skipping to that goddamned virus that spread somewhere in 2011, or maybe twelve it was? Louis wasn't sure. What he knew though, was that it was better to pick the bud out of his ear and sit this one out.

"Who are you, someone's dad?" With mild disgust painted on his face, Louis rolled his eyes at the humming that started seeping out of Harry's nostrils.

Sure, his judgement was a bit clouded as he still remembered his father playing this one to death whenever it was on the radio, which was every goddamned second what it felt like. So yeah, that might have been his daddy issues making a cameo rather than an actual dislike for that single, the fact that he had it on his playlist clearly showing that at one point in time, he must've enjoyed it enough to buy it.

"Do I look like one?" Styles scoffed, clearly amused with the comparison, breaking that momentary digression in Lou's head.

The boy only shrugged, causing something almost outraged to shine in his friend's expression. He tried to look extremely pensive for a moment, just as if he was seriously pondering whether the twenty-four-year-old opposite of him looked like a father. Well… fine, there were fathers his age, especially there in the countryside where people, without Louis generalising, might have kept that more… traditional approach to starting a family and whatnot, but that's not exactly what he had in mind.

"Now? Not really." The teen swept his eyes over his friend's silhouette, most of it engulfed in darkness. "Yesterday though, you could've passed as somebody's dad." A smug smirk made it onto Lou's lips at the memory of Harry all sweaty and rugged, dirty in this best kind of way that worked so well for him, his appearance far superior over Louis', who after a few solid hours of throwing hay bales around, with far lesser intensity than the other guy was working, found a gutter rat looking back at him in the mirror.

"I beg your pardon?!" Eyes widened in surprise, Harry blinked a few times, waiting for Louis to elaborate.

And he got what he was waiting for. "Okay but one of those dads that are kind of hot?" He found himself explaining, maybe a bit on a whim, just to make sure he doesn't offend his friend.

"A hot dad." The brunette nodded his head, changing the song immediately when the one he liked finished. "I will take that."

And they fell silent again, both with books in their hands, neither actually reading. "What's your favourite song then?" The boy asked, the question hanging in the air for a beat.

"The one you don't like." Harry answered skipping another one of these dance-y songs, he clearly wasn't appreciative of.

"You can't be serious." Lou's objection bordered on outrage. "This is my father's favourite song." The truthfulness of that statement was not entirely certain, Lou's relationship with pops not nearly good enough for the boy to know his dad's recent music opinions, the ones from 2012 the latest data he had.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, eyes darting to the side to look at his friend, who still laid with head propped on an elbow. "Who cares, it's not like he owns it." Uncertainty flashed in his features for a split second. "He doesn't, does he?"

Louis scoffed even thinking of his father having an actual cool job, somewhere in the music industry. "No." He admitted, the reality far less interesting than that, so he chose not to elaborate. "I call bullshit, that's not your favourite song."

"It is today."

Puzzlement was clear in the furrow of Tomlinson's eyebrows. "What does that even mean?" He laughed at the idea of changing one's favourite song each and every day.

"This is a very subjective question, isn't it?" The man declared as if it was the most obvious thing. It was not, not for Louis at least. "Ask me tomorrow and I'm going to give you an entirely different answer."

"God, you're weird." The teen snorted, rolling onto his back, eyes occupied with the skies above. "Can you see a penguin?" A question left his lips before he realised how idiotic he probably sounded. "There, to the left." He pointed his finger, knowing that from Harry's perspective, he pointed nowhere near the thing he tried to show.

But Harry chuckled, his head shaking for a bit. "No, I cannot say that I do." He clicked his tongue, Louis already at peace with ending that particular conversation. "And apparently I am weird."

Louis only scoffed at that, yeah, maybe he was a bit weird as well. Not that he ever claimed that he was not.

And nobody really spoke anymore. Every few songs, one of them would point out the shape they noticed in the stars, without consultation making a contest out of it, even if there was no real way of verifying whether or not either was just speaking out of their ass, Harry unable to spot whatever Louis could see as well as the other way around.

"I think it's time to call it a night." Harry pulled up on his elbows, taking the liberty of ending their little listening session on a good note, at least that's what Louis thought, one of his favourite songs concluding that however long, virtual concert. "I think this is my favourite song for today." He wrapped the earphones around the iPod, not letting go of the bundle.

Well, at least that opinion of Harry's wasn't complete garbage. Louis followed his friend's lead and sat up as well, knees drawn to his chin. "What time is it anyway?" However late it was, the yawn that distorted the boy's face told that it was probably a smart thing to head to bed. Well, maybe not smart, it would've been smart to go like an hour after they came back, two at most.

"Ten to three." The man stood up fully, audible cracking in his bones as he stretched. "Oh, I'm going to regret this in the morning."

Louis almost cringed at the thought of waking up as early as Harry probably was going to. Thankfully enough, the teen didn't have to wake up for stupid stuff like church, his lack of faith gaining him an additional hour in bed, more probably. In the grand scheme of things, eternal damnation seemed like a fair price to pay for however many hours he would've wasted in his lifetime on going to church. And yes, one might argue that sleeping till noon was an even bigger waste of time, but that's not what Louis thought.

The boy, being an absolute angel that he was, postponed his shower for the morning, thinking about other people who most likely would not appreciate him abusing the ancient plumbing that had a tendency to fill the entire farmhouse with wailing and screeching whenever somebody used the water.

He had barely any time to enjoy the improvement his new mattress was, the exhaustion winning the battle he hasn't even picked up. Sure, his day was nowhere near as active as the other days on the farm were, but the remnants of fatigue leftover from his low-tier nights since he arrived on the farm, made his whole body extremely easy for the night to claim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii, this is me again with my bullshit.  
> When I published the first chapter, I was rather confident in this story despite it being rather basic and well... cliche, that's sort of why I've decided to share it before I even finished writing it. But as my indecisive ass tends to do, I've changed my mind completely, so now I'm really fucking insecure about every chapter that I post, rereading them ten times, finding things to improve and yet, I'm still not 100% sure. At times, I find myself legit wanting to pull the whole thing out, and come back when I'm done and happy with how it looks, but I've already said A, so it would be shitty of me not to say B and leave if only that one person who waits for these uploads disappointed.  
> I know that for most, this is not a big thing, after all it's just a fanfic or whatever, and I might come off as a literal whiny attention seeker rn, but it takes a lot more time than some of you might imagine to write something, so if I already took that step, I would like for my work to be as good as I am capable to make it.  
> I can't make y'all do anything, and I'm still glad as hell for the handful of people who tune in and take a time of their day to read whatever this is, but I'd really appreciate if you'd left some feedback after reading. It's not me fishing for compliments, I love to hear both positive and negative stuff since that's how I get to know how I can improve, and it's just nice to know that somebody actually reads and me stressing over every upload isn't pointless.  
> So, with that, thank you for being here, for reading, for any form of encouragement you're leaving after visiting, and I hope to see you next upload.  
> As for now, I've decided to do Tuesdays and Fridays. If the Uni continues to be as hectic as it is and the block doesn't stop, I might change it for one update somewhere in the middle of the week, idk just yet, for now it stays twice.  
> Thank you all so much, and keep tight :)


	4. Chapter 4

‘Would you fuck me already?’ Louis would’ve yelled if he had a fraction of balls this imagined, improved version of him had. That was not a viable option for real him, though, which was better, to be honest. If he was to say every thought that passed his brain, he would’ve been lynched from that town like three seconds after he arrived, all pitchforks and torches. Hell, if it wasn’t for this filter, he would’ve been murdered already, or put in an institution, at the very least. Rightfully so.

So, with that little genius remark left for his thoughts and fantasies, he peeked from above the book he was reading, studying Harry’s early-morning workout routine from the far more pleasant spot he had upstairs, utilising his new favourite place now that he knew the roof wouldn’t collapse under his weight.

“You, Harry Styles, are an insane person.” He dared to exclaim, eyes stuck to the man doing burpees on the front lawn, alternating exercises ever since he finished his morning run.

It was way too early to be up. Even on a normal day, it was so awfully goddamned early, not even ten in the morning, yet somehow he couldn’t regret the sun waking him up just in time to witness that, while absolutely crazy, still very nice to the eye scene. Fuck it, the only reason he was even pretending he was reading, all wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket he found at the bottom of his wardrobe, was that little display he had a top-tier seat to watch it from.

He could see the man smirking, though he was surprised that he even noticed the expression, his eyes wandering all over the unsuspecting (hopefully) object. Louis was aware that he was, essentially, blaming the victim, but he couldn’t stop trying to justify himself being a complete creep with the skimpiness of the brunette’s outfit.

After all, Styles was wearing only blue running shoes and a pair of white basketball shorts that ended a little above his knees, loose enough to provide a nice little visual of his thick, muscular thighs. With every movement, Harry unintentionally teased the peeping tom above almost to the breaking point. It was fine, wasn’t it? At least it wasn’t horrible. He was just looking, harmless, if anything it was a compliment to the man, whether Harry would appreciate another guy applauding his musculature or not.

“Next time I’m taking you with me!” Grinning, the man winked from below, catching up on his breathing with hands on his hips, looking up at Louis. “So you gave it another try?” Even if the nod of his head hasn’t exactly translated correctly, the boy could assume what his friend was talking about.

“It’s still creepy as fuck.” His little book review almost made him scoff. The audacity on him! In his current position, he was nowhere near authorised to call out people like that. To be fair, he was far from as creepy as the guy in the book, at least the subject of his little crush wasn’t seriously underage, so here’s about that.

Harry laughed and let go of the topic, mostly because he ran back inside, apparently reaching the finish of his Sunday workout session. Thankfully he hasn’t transformed their small talk in some kind of book club discussion. had that been the case, there was no chance Louis wouldn’t have exposed the actual reason behind his morning hangout, the one he concealed with a book, which he hasn’t even read a page of since he picked it up.

Now that the only reason why he even found himself on the roof was gone, he didn’t know what exactly to do with himself. There was a thought that passed his head, his survival instinct dictating him to go to sleep, take advantage of the two or three hours he had before Harry’s back from church and inevitably finds something for them to do. He was sort of hoping they would ride horses, secretly missing the second friend he made on the farm, taking a note that even if not for a riding lesson, he should pop into the stables regardless, spend some time with Grease, groom him a bit. And if he would score an extra point in Frank’s eyes, taking over the stables duty that was technically his to do so Harry had at least a caricature of an actual weekend, so be it, though that was far from Lou’s main motivation.

He decided to listen to his instincts and got back to bed, his plans to sleep in, fully wrecked by Harry. It was not that he was inconsiderate or anything, despite the initial claim that infuriated Tomlinson made when he realised he wouldn’t be sleeping any more this morning, especially that his neighbour didn’t even know that was a plan the boy had, but him kicking off his morning routine with a shower was all but helpful.

Fine, Louis was nowhere near fussy enough that running water would stop him from sleeping; living his whole life in New York conditioned him to ignore background noise quite well, but what he couldn’t miss, were the performances Harry made in the shower. Yeah, he was that guy. And even if these short concerts he gave in the bathroom were something Tomlinson might have usually seen as endearingly quirky, the complete shamelessness of his questionable talent perhaps even captivating at times, it was all but desirable at the moment when Louis tried to squeeze in a nap in the morning.

So he just laid there, continuing being a creep, not entirely voluntarily listening in on Harry’s short, still vary of water conservation, shower, tossing and turning whenever the current position started being uncomfortable.

“And here I thought you were being productive!” Styles startled him out of sleep after god knows how long he managed to drift off for. A bowl of corn flakes in his hand, the other wielding the spoon, the man walked in like it was still his own room, settling himself on the edge of the bed he traded in for his guest’s convenience. “How’d you sleep? Is the bed really that better?”

“It’s even better than I thought it would be.” Louis lied, not even trying to be sneaky about it, in reality, the upgrade not nearly as significant as he expected it to be. “You, on the other hand, look like the trade served you well.” His voice groggy, the boy pulled the thin, washed-out sheet to cover his face, at least filter out his horrid breath, though there was a very slim chance the stench would travel quite as far.

Harry chewed through another spoonful of cereal, seemingly in a hurry, even if his visit said otherwise, all but necessary. “I’m just not as high-maintenance as you are.” His bare shoulders shrugged, pushing the very last droplets that haven’t yet managed to evaporate, to slide down his chest.

Louis caught himself swallowing thick at the sight before him, very unwillingly moving his eyes up, thinking that he really couldn’t have been any more obvious… well, maybe if he asked the question he stopped from coming out before. “Excuse me? How very dare you?” The boy forced the outraged note into his voice.

Fucking hell, if Harry thought this was high maintenance, he would go into cardiac arrest if he got a glimpse of Lou’s bank statements, ones he had the talk about each and every month before pops got fed up with the pointlessness of those and deemed his son’s spending one of the things that he was simply unable to fix.

Sure, that wasn’t entirely true. There was one, quite simple way Aaron Tomlinson could remedy his child’s irresponsible spending, but for whatever reason, Louis not entirely sure why he hasn’t been cut off just yet. The closest he ever came to that was just a few weeks prior when the farm camp was the only alternative in that ultimatum, his choice pretty obvious.

“That mattress has nothing on me.” Harry boasted, taking a break to sip the leftover milk from the bowl. “Slept in a haystack once, not as bad as you might think.”

Louis’ eyebrows furrowed at the revelation, lips curving underneath the cover. “I’d like to hear that story.” He chuckled, alcohol the only culprit he could suspect, though he could hardly see Harry getting blackout drunk to the point where he couldn’t make it to his bed.

“Story? There’s not really much to it.” He shrugged again, Lou’s eyes gliding over his chest without his permission before he composed himself. “Guess we can have a little sleepover so you can see for yourself.”

Even if Harry seemed mildly amused but still serious, Louis put that one on the list of absolutely fucking not, right beside the workout session on a Sunday morning the brunette had teased not that long ago. Shaking his head at the horrified expression on the teen’s face, Harry got up and made it out of the room in no time, leaving his friend to (hopefully) catch up with his sleep, or, at the very least, get a bit closer to catching up with it.

And of course, he hasn’t slept any more that morning. It really became quite obvious that this was not happening, the violent gurgling in his stomach the biggest opponent on his route to a nap, that fight was surrendered even before Harry’s truck announced its departure.

It was a surprise when Louis realised that Frank’s gone to church as well. Fuck, from his brief relationship with that man, he was already quite aware that the farmer’s approach to the holy commandments was pretty… loose, to say the least.

But for him, at that moment, Frank’s dubious godliness proved to be very convenient. If it wasn’t for the lonesome he found himself in unsuspectedly, he would’ve never gotten the privacy that he could really use at the moment. Fuck, he could’ve used it each and every day since he arrived at the farm.

And of course, he’s done with his time the exact thing every single boy his age would’ve done. However many euphemisms he could’ve come up with to make it sound any cooler than the activity actually was, he jacked off, simple as that. Not knowing when he was going to get his next opportunity to do that, he might have gotten a bit greedy and squeezed in a second one in the shower, just before the hosts arrived from the church, the engine of Harry’s Ford startling him just a bit, leaving the second peak… sufficiently satisfactory, no fireworks.

Aware of the fact that his next-door neighbour would’ve disapproved of his heinous disregard to the rules he never really instituted, he let himself linger in the shower, using tepid water to wash off the shame that he could only imagine was pretty much solidified on his face once he concluded that little… activity of his.

To be fair, he was never exactly ashamed of relieving himself a bit. See, he was single, and he was young, everybody does that, and if they are claiming otherwise, they’re bullshitting. With that, fully convinced that even holier than the God above Harry sometimes partook in similar pastimes, he still wasn’t exactly keen on going around and announcing it because no matter how many things about him said otherwise, he wasn’t insane.

Thank fuck he gave himself an extra minute or two to compose himself. He wasn’t even all that worried about using quite a load of water more than it was necessary, his behaviour inconsiderate and borderline blasphemous towards his friend’s teachings. Being condemned by Harry seemed a bit better than the alternative, which was looking fucked out of his mind in the middle of the holy ground surrounding the small, wooden church, around which he found himself quite involuntarily.

It was a surprise when Harry halted his truck on the packed parking lot of the local church. Sure, it was early for the dinner the two of them were invited to by Anne, but he just sort of assumed that they were heading there a bit early.

They were not, and now the two of them were standing in the scorching sun, desperately trying to cool themselves with lemonade that tasted more like water with sugar mixed in. The frown on Lou’s face hasn’t eased up at all ever since the two of them arrived to… whatever the fuck this was. His expression was hardly enough to keep the older ladies at bay, every single one of them swarming towards the brunette he accompanied, even if for Louis, the two of them keeping to the side was enough of a sign that they did not want to be fucking bothered.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t exactly true. Harry’s eagerness to entertain everybody with small talk hasn’t supported that claim, but apparently, the brunette man didn’t mind sacrificing the attention for the sake of keeping company to a boy, who he knew all too well, didn’t exactly want to be there in the first place. Whatever, it’s not like anybody gave a shit about the two of them distancing themselves from the crowd.

But there was cake, a few kinds, Harry fetching them a nice little plate each. And now they were eating, sat on the grass under a bushy maple tree that provided some shade, though the green foliage hasn’t done a lot when it came to remedying the suffocating swelter, the fire pouring on them from the sky. It must’ve been the hottest one yet, which was why Louis would much rather be inside than there, ostensibly bonding with the members of the community without doing that at all, at least trying not to.

“Managed to get a chat with the big man up above?” The smidge of bitterness made it through with his words.

Harry looked over his shoulder, eyeing the boy who stuffed his mouth with ice cream birthday cake even if, as far as he was aware, it was nobody’s birthday. “I have actually.” His staple cheeriness not indicative of the fact that he caught onto his friend’s grudge against him.

“Does that even mean anything?” Tomlinson gained himself a confused look with that random remark. “Look at her.” He nodded in the direction of a woman standing on the opposite side of the road, perched atop the hood of a BMW, which polished exterior hinted that she was living at least a financially comfortable life. With an arm swung around her back, stood an objectively handsome man. New York seven, here around nine, the rings around their fingers quite explicitly showing that the two were married, engaging in small talk with another pair, sipping their drinks and laughing. Such a happy couple, yeah?

The only thing that betrayed that idyllic picture were the hungry gazes Louis caught the woman throwing at unsuspecting Harry. It was almost adorable how foolishly oblivious the brunette was of that fact, being devoured by an objectively attractive blonde who, at most, was in her mid-thirties when all he cared about was scooping ice cream before it melted.

“What about her?” Harry asked, thumbing a speckle of blue icing from the corner of his lip, sucking the sugar paste off his skin immediately.

Louis was pretty sure this was a front. Because, really… a blind man would’ve caught the woman, her eyes drifting towards the brunette man almost like she wasn’t even aware she was doing that. “Good Christian woman, barely left the church and if she could, she would come up here in these bootleg Louboutins and fuck you right on the spot, and her husband would probably love to watch.” The boy scoffed, the assumption about the guy a bit improvised, no actual premises to deem the guy a cuck.

His observation met with a grimace on Harry’s face, his eyes drifting for a second towards the subject of their chat only to come back to Louis, not even reciprocating the smile he got, which was the most un-Harry thing to do. “You’re doing it again.” The tone of his voice flippant, unmatching the frown that started making its way off his face.

“Doing what?”

“Reading too much into things.” Without a trace of hesitancy in his features, the man dove in and literally licked off whatever he hasn’t managed to scoop with his spoon, eyeing the empty plate when he was done with his ice cream. “I’ll see if they do doubles. Want some more?” He asked, already standing on his long limbs, knees green from his surprisingly ungraceful way of getting up, very contrasting the agility that made itself known during that workout session Louis peeped on just a few hours ago and all these times before.

“I’m fine, thanks.” The teen shook his head, letting the soup that once was ice cream slide into his mouth from the plate he curved in a way that would prevent him from getting it all over himself. He wasn’t even done with that when the gravel started crunching underneath Harry’s sandals, the man making his way towards the people who didn’t even let him get some goddamned ice cream in peace.

Harry’s mission was successful, his plate full when Lou spotted him again. What did that matter if he couldn’t even enjoy the treat in peace? Spooning the cake into his mouth, he engaged in a seemingly pleasurable chat with an older woman, who quickly swept in a younger one, no… a girl even, into their group, not so smoothly bringing the attention to the redhead who couldn’t have been older than Louis was.

Solid ten minutes have passed before Styles, with that staple grin on his face, returned to the shelter the maple provided, roughhousing two boys who invaded Lou’s space. The teen’s attitude towards the company that hasn’t bothered him in the literal sense of the word, but still pissed him off, was clear with a single look on his face.

The boys were sent off by Styles who fell back down on the grass, laying down completely, his gaze curious as he looked at Louis whose expression was still so clearly bothered.

“I bet any of these ladies would sell their soul to the devil to have you knock up their daughter.” The negative Nancy spoke again, snarked more like, his eyes trailing after the redhead girl with whom Harry chatted just a few minutes ago, quickly switching to a mousy blonde who entertained his friend with conversation as well.

Harry’s eyes fell closed for a second, his expression staying undisturbed otherwise. “Is there a reason why you’re so incredibly cranky today? Gotten off on the wrong foot, have we?” A kind smirk made it onto his lips.

And maybe it helped, even if just a bit. Louis wasn’t going to let it show though, his expression staying stubborn, though he wasn’t entirely sure what even caused him being so… cranky, as Harry called him… As if he needed any more examples of the man treating him like a fucking child. Joke’s on you, Styles, that child might or might have not just jerked off to the thought of you in your shared shower. Oops?

“I think I get a pass when the flesh is literally melting off my bones because you forced me to come here even if absolutely nobody wants me around.” His words slightly more pointed than he intended. Well, not slightly. Quite a few notches too sharp, but that realisation only struck when the accusation left his lips. “Sorry, I’m being a brat again.” With a sigh leaving his nostrils, he shook his head, knowing that his apology was hardly enough to remedy the situation.

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you to, would you?” The answer to that question hasn’t come, simply because it was not needed, both sides aware of that. “So make of that what you will, but for now, get up.” This time, Harry’s nimbleness made a cameo as he sprung up, immediately heading towards his car.

Their route ended up being a bit more complicated than necessary. However, Louis appreciated that the brunette so obviously designed it like that just so they could avoid any more small talk, the teen’s bullshit meter already off the charts, even if he wasn’t the one having these chats, to begin with.

“Fucking hell!” Louis clutched his hand right over his heart, the frantic beating of it palpable on his skin as he tried to catch his breath after being scared shitless by a toy he picked up from a shelf in Harry’s mom’s basement. Fine, not only it was his fault for touching things that were not his, but also he should’ve seen this coming when he started spinning the crank of an old, dusty jack in the box. “This thing is haunted and you cannot convince me otherwise.” He scoffed, pushing the toy to the back of the shelf, where he first found it.

“That’s why it’s here.” Harry laughed from a foot or two below, kneeling, searching an old toolbox for… only he knew what. “I mean because my sister thought the same so my mum had to hide it here.” Finding what he was looking for, the man pulled a screwdriver out and slammed the box shut with a loud noise. “Not because it’s haunted.”

“Didn’t know you had a sister.” The boy only took as much from his friend’s words, the two of them already making their way up the stairs.

The taller one shrugged his shoulders, taking two steps at the time. Honestly, Louis was about done with this man’s peak physique, or rather how inferior his own was in comparison. “I do.” Styles admitted after they made it out of the basement, light and the door shut by him. “Here.” He pointed his index finger at one of the frames, which abundance held proof of any significant event in the history of Anne’s family.

This one quite mysterious since nothing was giving away what exactly would make this day special enough to put it up on a wall. Just two kids on a see-saw, grinning at whoever it was who took the picture.

“Where is she now?” Louis found himself asking, not even realising that maybe he was a bit intrusive in this.

“Seattle.” The two of them stood by the front door, Harry fiddling with the lock that must’ve demanded some attention. “She’s a photographer.”

“And she didn’t take you with her?” The teen scoffed, half-joking, half-serious. The reason why his friend hasn’t gone off yet was quite a mystery to him, his future quite obviously doomed in a dying-out community like that.

“She would if I wanted to go.” It was clear in Harry’s voice that he wasn’t keen on elaborating, the topic not even close to the top of the ones he liked to speak about.

“How do you have energy for all of this?” Louis asked, almost irritated with how effortlessly the man was tackling whatever chore his mother laid on him. Well… not exactly. She would just mention that something needed repair and her son, no questions asked, rushed to tend to whatever it was that required his attention.

Now they were in the back garden, the sun already making its way off the sky as Harry fixed planks that came loose in his mum’s picket fence. Louis just observed, his manual skills allowing as much as that, swinging ever so slightly on an old tire hanging off a branch of a walnut tree.

“You just think this is a lot because you’re lazy.” Harry laughed, tossing the hammer onto the pale grass, all of its colour stolen by the scorching sun. “But you’re excused, it’s your vacation after all.” He neared the improvised swing and without as little as a warning, started pushing on the tire, giving Louis barely enough time to clutch the rope with his hands.

“You are going to kill me!” The younger boy yelled, mild panic settled in his voice as he was so abruptly stripped away from all the control he had before, one he enjoyed quite a lot. “I am going to kill you!” When nothing brought effects, he resorted to a threat. He could hardly see his friend taking him seriously, after all, it was almost comical to imagine the teen having any chances in a fight with the older guy, but Lou had other things on his mind than pondering over the actual logic of his words, for example keeping his grip tight enough, so he doesn’t die.

“I would like to see you try.” Styles only chuckled, letting go of the tire not to anger his friend any more. “We’re heading home?” He asked, watching how the swing slowed down organically when nothing was propelling it.

“Why haven’t you left?” The boy dared to ask as the two of them were sitting in their spot on the roof, for no particular reason at all, all the pretence dropped once Harry visited his pal late in the evening with no book in his hand, so that excuse made it fully out of the window just as the two of them did soon after.

It was dumb that somehow, the full day they’ve spent with each other wasn’t enough for either. In normal circumstances, Louis would’ve been done with anybody in a fraction of time he spent with Harry lately. Hell, even his friends were too much after maybe four hours and let’s remember that the alternative was going home to his beloved pops, so that counts for something.

To be fair, with no actual options for his downtime, it wasn’t that surprising that he found himself with his supervisor most of the time. There was only so much time he could spend listening to music, reading borrowed books or going on short walks, not too deep into the woods since, as well as he knew himself, he’d get lost and die there. So… Harry it was.

The farmer exhaled, breaking the brief-ish silence, clearly not even a bit more excited about nudging the topic than he was before. Maybe even less, to be honest. “I just haven’t, why does that matter so much?”

Louis frowned at the answer, not liking the trace of irritation he could pick up on in his pal’s words. “I don’t know.” He admitted honestly. He didn’t know why it was so important for him to know the reason. Curiosity perhaps. “I just thought you were smarter than believing there is something for you around here.”

A bit of panic struck him when he realised how his words sounded, and all the ways they could’ve been interpreted in. For his advantage worked the fact that Harry, generally, didn’t take offence in anything. With all the times Louis acted like a brat around him, that man hasn’t gotten actually mad at him even once, or maybe he just didn’t let it show but that was good enough.

“Apparently I’m even dumber than you thought.” The brunette’s broad shoulders shrugged flippantly, the man very noticeably leaning away from his friend which… stung a bit.

“The balls I would have to carry to call you dumb.” Louis scoffed, shyly letting his eyes dart to the side, just in the time to catch Harry’s eyes on him. “It’s the opposite, that’s why I can’t fathom what the hell are you still doing here.” His voice felt lighter, just as a means to brighten the atmosphere a bit.

And Harry… hasn’t said anything to that, hasn’t even looked at the boy next to him, just stared ahead, tapping his bare feet onto the tiles with a quiet slap each time his skin collided with the surface.

They just sat there, saying nothing at all, silence longer than Louis would’ve liked it to last. It was heavy, and it was awkward, the least comfortable either felt in each other’s company, which was surprising since Lou thought nothing could top his first day on the farm.

It was almost shocking how fast he got accustomed to Harry being around at all times, given that it’s been only a couple of days since he arrived at the farm, barely enough to bond with somebody. And they haven’t really bonded, to be honest. Louis felt comfortable around the man, and it seemed like it was mutual, though perhaps in Styles’ case, there was never talk of not being relaxed around the guest.

It was probably the fact that they’ve spent good twelve hours each day around one another. Had it not been the case, Lou would still be distant, as he always was with strangers. Weeks, months even needed to get him to the point to which Harry has managed to get him in days.

And now something changed, the brunette man strangely aloof, unwilling to even speak about the topic his apprentice has nudged, which quite explicitly showed that the teenager crossed a boundary he wasn’t even aware was there. Fair, he probably shouldn’t have asked, his curiosity not exactly justified in the casualness of their relation, none of his business why the man stayed in his hometown that will more than likely die faster than he will.

Louis couldn’t exactly help this unexplained interest in all things Harry. He knew where it all came from, at least suspected that this was the result of the absolute lack of anything better to do that led him to this unusual for him inquisitiveness. His case wasn’t helped by the man, who proved to be far more complex in character than he initially made it seem, and Tomlinson was sure as fuck that he hasn’t even seen most of the things Harry had hidden away from him.

As much as he was certain that this was not the last of him collecting information about the man next to him, he knew he shouldn’t be so… blatant in his nosiness, which wasn’t something easy to do, but he was sure he could manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this is a bit shorter than I usually go for, but there wasn't really a way to divide the chapters otherwise so forgive me, the next one is going to be almost twice as long.  
> Thank you for all the encouragement, i really appreciate a few of you taking time to write a comment, it helps a lot :)  
> See you on Friday, keep tight :)


	5. Chapter 5

“Who the fuck is that?” Louis’ voice a bit too hostile towards the people whom he noticed when Harry and he were walking towards the training area. The question of Grease’s whereabouts was quickly answered, a little girl under a young woman’s supervision was looping the pen on the stallion’s back. “I thought he was mine.” A frown deepened on his face when he acknowledged that _this_ was a reason why he was leading Butterscotch instead of his usual friend.

 _Fine,_ maybe he was acting bratty, his behaviour more matching that girl who couldn’t have been older than six years old than a nineteen-year-old he was, but eh, it’s not like Harry could see him getting overly possessive over Grease, even if he could, Lou hasn’t exactly cared at the moment.

“Oh, that’s Claire.” The man’s shoulders shrugged as he tried to match the length of his strides with Louis’, doing a bad job out of it. “That’s my school friend and her daughter, Sadie.” He explained almost as if it was something obvious.

And sure, maybe it was for him. It surely wasn’t for Louis, who still was a bit confused with the whole thing. Because, as far as he was told, nobody was even using the pen anymore, at least nobody other than Harry, so this was something new. What was also new and quite uncomfortable, was the company of people that weren’t the stable boy.

There were maybe three people Louis grew comfortable with. First of them so obvious that there was really no need to introduce the man, the second one this very man’s mother, third Ada, with whom the teen hasn’t really had any significant contact, but he was fine with the woman around. So now, having two strangers he was bound to meet very soon, he wasn’t ecstatic, to say the least.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be the polar opposite of that. Pulling hands out of the pockets of his shorts, straightening his posture just a bit from the usual slump of his shoulders, he bolted towards the woman, Claire, and took her into his arms, grinning like stupid while the two of them spun in a circle, exchanging pleasantries.

Before Louis even had a chance to reach the pen, slowly walking Butterscotch who was an absolute angel for him, Styles already had a little blonde girl in his arms, welcoming her just as warmly as her mother. A full-on fit of giggles made it to the teen as he was approaching, the tallest man tickling the girl he was just now placing back in the saddle.

“Was wondering who stole one of my babies.” With pursed lips, Harry shook his head, patting the side of Grease’s neck ever so gently. “I knew he wouldn’t just run off like that, would you?” The man cooed to the stallion, slowly stroking the horse’s head with the utmost care and love so authentic, it was almost solidified between the animal and its caretaker.

“Thought we would take this one for a spin or two while we’re in town. A good entry-level horsey, isn’t he?” Claire smiled at her daughter, the child’s face embellished by a beaming smile as she dragged her curious eyes over the adults, only for maybe a split second stopping on Louis, whom she apparently deemed not interesting enough. Fair, Tomlinson was far from intrigued as well.

“Oh, absolutely. We were going to do the same, but I think my friend here is ready for Butterscotch.” The brunette man winked at the teen, Louis standing a bit to the side, all but eager to join the conversation he was now pretty much expected to join. “This is Louis, by the way. Louis, this is Claire, and this little devil is Sadie.”

Tomlinson was as interested in their new companions as anybody would predict him to be., but he tried to be as pleasant as the situation required, resorting to the staple, polite nod of his head before he went back to being worried if he was nearly as readyfor Butterscotch as Harry claimed he was.

Grease was an older guy, he was calm, he was patient, and most of all, he was familiar. He was everything Butterscotch simply wasn’t in her youthful rowdiness which displays the teen has seen before, these memories not helpful **at fucking all**.

Sticking to his resolution of being compliant towards whatever Harry planned for him, he hasn’t voiced any of his concerns. Fuck it, if he dies, he dies. Yolo, memento mori or whatever. He was a big boy, apparently not big enough to be a man and own up to being _just a little_ scared, scared shitless more like but that was a detail, right?

He watched the interaction from the side, just studying Harry in a social situation, as charming as ever, catching up with a friend much to Lou’s irritation. It was just all too fucking hot, he was sweating, and maybe he forgot to put sunscreen on, which only meant he was going to get sunburnt in approximately thirty seconds, give or take.

His lack of patience peaked around five minutes into the conversation when, already fed up with all the waiting, he mounted the horse on his own, successfully, mind you that. Not only it was the first time he managed to get on by himself, no supervision whatsoever since his instructor was too busy with his friend, but Butterscotch was also quite a bit bigger than Grease was, which added to the excitement.

And maybe he got a bit cocky, taking off without as little as an acknowledgement from Styles, who only noticed what happened when he was passed by the teen who, despite his initial fright, gained quite a bit of confidence from his first minor success.

It was the weirdest practice they had to date. Fine, the competition wasn’t the biggest, the two of them having just a few lessons before but it was bizarre. It was almost humiliating in a sense that all Tomlinson could think of while riding, this one already too big of a word to use, was how similar it was to all these pony rides kids from kindergarten used to have on their birthday parties, the children looping the pen while the adults were talking. He almost scoffed at this thought after he tuned his ears out of the conversation that turned out being far less interesting than he expected.

Fine, Harry promised to make up for that, clearly aware of how this particular training compared to the previous ones, scheduling a casual ride when the sun goes down, and the heat eases up. Still, it all just seemed like a huge waste of time one way or another.

“Giving a handjob to a fucking cow, I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” The boy, with the most poisonous hostility in his voice, snarled from below the brown cow he was supposed to be milking, but for him to be milking the animal, there would have to be something coming out from the tit he was squeezing, and that was not the case, no matter that it was quite a chunk of time since he started.

One week into the farm life, Harry decided it was the time for the ‘cow duty’, which proved to be just as horrible as Louis expected it to be. At the very least, he wasn’t woken up at the brink of the morning, when the farmer usually handled the milking debacle, but that was hardly making matters any better. Kneeling underneath Bailey, one of three cows Frank and Ada had on their farm, the teen regretted all the life choices that led to him being just there, in the smelly barn he hoped his friend won’t make him return to.

From the lack of success of his endeavour, it really didn’t seem like he was going to be pressured into that action too much, Harry quite forgiving and accepting of the boundaries the boy had even if by the start of their acquaintance it seemed like the word ‘no’, hasn’t even existed in the man’s dictionary.

Now that he was thinking about it, it would’ve been better if the mechanics of it matched a casual handjob, this he had, at least some experience in, but they have not. Whatever he tried, however diligently he followed Harry’s instructions, he hasn’t gotten even a drop. It wasn’t a secret that the teen wasn’t exactly the most graceful loser out there, towards the bottom of that list to be fair, that’s why he was _a bit_ cranky at the moment, his lip quivering half from actual anger that started building up inside of him, half from the fact that he was somewhere on the verge of tears right about there.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re trying to jerk it off when it’s not like that at all!” Harry laughed, leaning down to have a look at his friend’s frustrated face. “Give me your hand, come on now.” Still as cheerful as ever, too happy for the other guy’s liking, the brunette man reached his preposterously big palm and enveloped Lou’s much smaller one in entirety. “You just sort of do this like that… squeeze now.” The instructions were not clear enough, though there was a mild success, the first thin stream of milk hitting the bucket below the cow. “You’re doing it.”

“I hate this. Don’t make me do this or I’m going to cry.” The threat was serious, at least the boy tried to make it as such. “Would you want to have your tits tugged on like that? I wouldn’t.” A deep frown settled in his features as he let go of the udder, disgust visible in his face from the moment he entered the barn and realised what they were doing.

Sympathy for the animal, mixed with genuine disgust towards the act, made it really quite obvious that Lou was not going to return to that chore, whether Harry allows it or not. Fuck him if he doesn’t.

“Some like it.” The brunette shrugged flippantly, not even acknowledging his mate’s threat.

Lou’s eyes widened in a surprise because… no, Harry didn’t look like the type. He knew the type, a few of these met in New York and just… _no_. “DO YOU?!” His voice pitched higher than ever, even he surprised with how he ended up sounding.

“None of your business.” Styles laughed and without insisting any further (thank fucking God), took over his apprentice’s task, far more successful in getting all the milk out, his experience showing in the speed he managed to get it all out.

“This is not an actual option you have.” Harry moved Louis’ piece to the starting point on the chessboard the older man broke out from the confines of his wardrobe. He was far more amused than any other person would be in a situation quite like this one. Hell, with the teen constantly trying to pull some improvised tricks from his sleeve, an angel would’ve lost its patience.

But not Styles, he just laughed, picked his queen up and with furrowed eyebrows waited for the boy opposite him to make up his mind about the actual move. What he didn’t know though, was the fact that from the quite extensive tutorial he received previously, Louis remembered virtually nothing. He got as far with improvising and his friend’s eagerness to help him, which really showed how determined the farmer was to win the game, not at all, most of his own, black pieces knocked down due to the tips he gave his trainee.

And Louis… was stuck just about there, looking from the beautifully sculpted, very visibly handmade stone pieces, to Harry’s face, similarly impressive in its sculpture. “I think I’ve changed my mind about those movies.” He declared, knocking his own queen down with an index finger. Just to make the game impossible to pick up, he, in true brat fashion, knocked down most of the pieces in the middle of the board. “Checkmate, you win.”

When he had a choice between playing chess, something he’s never done in his life and watching some 1980’s adaptations of Stephen King’s novels, he thought the decision was really quite obvious. Apparently not, chess far more complicated than checkers, which one of his friends taught him to play in sixth grade.

So… movie it was. After picking up the pieces of the game and tossing them into the designated space, Harry took upon himself lining the carpet with the duvet he found crumpled on Lou’s bed. For whatever reason, that was a better option in his mind than just using the bed. But then, they were sweaty, dusty and altogether gross, so maybe it was better for them to stay on the floor, where they belonged.

While the older man was tossing some rolled blankets to the floor, makeshift pillows since the weather was far from demanding an actual cover, the teen was shifting through DVD cases Harry picked up from his family home on Sunday, just something for them to do when Louis goes into this fussy toddler mode and is impossible to satisfy with any activity at all. The boy couldn’t exactly promise that these old movies were going to keep him occupied, but it’s not like he had anything better to do.

Stopping the comment on the absolute ancientness of these DVD’s, because really, who the fuck uses DVD’s anymore, Louis laid on the duvet, the laptop a few inches from their faces when he joined Harry who was already waiting on him there.

“Speaker or…” The man hasn’t finished the question before Louis tossed his earbuds at him, picking one for himself and leaving the other vacant.

It took some fidgeting and fumbling, the duvet a bit crumpled under his body before the boy settled in a semi-comfortable position, laying on his belly, very obviously taking some of Harry’s space as well, but the farmer hasn’t complained. He never has.

The teen quickly regretted opting for a movie he has seen before, his memory far more reliable than he thought it was. And of course, he found himself getting bored quite quickly. His eyes fully off the screen right in the middle of _Children of The Corn_ , because obviously once he saw this one, his mind was made, if only for the cult jokes he could make about the very town they were in.

It became clear that the older man saw this movie too, his interest while not a hundred percent on the film, was still mostly there, while Lou, in his usual fashion, looked for a distraction. He was laying on his side, eyes focused on Harry’s profile, the man polite enough not to acknowledge the fact that he was stared at, even if it was very evident that that’s precisely what the boy was doing.

Louis was occupying himself with scratching through the bristles of the patterned rug they were indirectly laying on. The dust collected underneath his bitten fingernails only told the tale of how often was the thing vacuumed. His eyes were following the curve of Harry’s jawline, the sharp edge to it something he hasn’t noticed before, which was weird because he thought he paid a lot of attention to that man’s physique, if not the majority. Well, Harry hasn’t lacked things that made him so irresistibly hot, but there it was, another position on the list.

He was somewhere in the middle of counting every single strand of stubble; dark, sharp heads of it just barely poking out from underneath the farmer’s golden tan skin, longer in a few patches the man managed to miss when he shaved. Was this prime entertainment in his eyes? No, not at all. Was this the best he could get in that godforsaken town? Probably, yeah.

“So what, my face is more interesting than the movie?” Harry sneered, finally turning his face towards the boy, cheek pressed to the bicep as his arms were folded between the laptop and his head.

‘Well, of course’, Louis would’ve said if there wasn’t just this tiniest strand of awkwardness he still felt in regards to the brunette. Just something coming from the fact that truth be told, he hasn’t even known Harry _that much_. Fair, they were quite cool with each other or whatever, but there was a part of him unsure if he could so explicitly exhibit his true self in front of the guy. Straight-up flirting, the thing he, in normal circumstances, would’ve done numerous times already, now wasn’t exactly a viable option, was it?

“It’s quite fun, but you wouldn’t know that.” The boy’s shoulders shrugged before he mimicked Harry’s position, far superior in the comfort factor over the one he adapted just before.

They were just lying there, face to face, the movie still playing in front of them, only audio of it more or less voluntarily paid attention to, but not really, to be honest.

Harry distracted himself from that staring contest neither really was aware was happening, and fully shut down the movie when he saw that his friend was even less interested in it than he was. Not even a minute after the film was silenced, there was music pumping through the earbuds, something Louis couldn’t say he recognised, he wouldn’t even try to guess what it was.

“Your dad called.” The man declared after two songs have passed and neither said a word. Harry, apparently decided to find out for himself how fun it was to just stare at people because right about then, he was doing just that. “At least I think it was him. Didn’t get the name.”

There was no way he hasn’t seen the grimace that flashed on Lou’s face at the mention of his father, like a response he was conditioned to for however long. Since his birth perhaps, because that was _kind of_ the case. Tomlinson knew that questions were coming the second brunette’s eyebrows pinched together in reaction to the expression he caught, unfortunately not blinking at that moment because that’s precisely how long the flash had lasted.

“Great, you’ve ruined it.” The boy scoffed, tugging out the white bud out of his ear canal and scrambling onto his legs. The movement was surprisingly smooth, very unlike him, though that was the best moment for that unexpected strike of agility, carrying over to when he slid out of the window, leaving his friend behind.

It was all too dramatic, and he was fully aware of that, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d much rather come off as a bit of a fool than expose himself to a conversation he hasn’t felt like having. It’s been a week since he saw pops last time, and that week was one of the better ones in his life, even though the living conditions were subpar, and that was to put it lightly. Fuck, most of the time he found himself forgetting that he had a father at all, feeling like one day, he just… was there, no parents or anything problematic like that.

But he wasn’t, and Harry made it very apparent with the three words he spoke not even two minutes ago. It wasn’t his fault, of course, Lou knew that. How was he supposed to be aware of the twisted web of his trainee’s relationship with his father when they’ve never talked about it?

Even if it wasn’t _actually_ Lou’s father who was calling, there was no way in fucking hell it was, that only meant somebody was ordered to call, and that wasn’t much better either, maybe even worse, depends how you look at it.

There was no bitterness towards Harry… well, maybe just a bit of unjustified animosity for ‘ruining it’, whatever ‘it’ actually was, not that they were doing something incredibly interesting before, but he’d rather be left alone for now. He knew that this wasn’t something that he was going to get without forthrightly telling the man just that, and doing that was out of the question at the moment. Louis was not ready to jeopardise that sprouting friendship with telling the man to leave him the fuck alone.

So, Harry joined him, sat to his right just where he always sat for some reason. They weren’t speaking for a hot minute, just listening to the surroundings, the crickets winning by a landslide with everything else, most of the remaining noise not even distinguishable over the ticking.

“He asked about you, you should probably call him.” The silence was broken by a very uncalled-for remark. “I told him you were doing great.”

Yeah, _right._ Louis would’ve rather shot himself straight in the head if he knew where a shotgun Frank was bound to possess, because that’s the kind of person he is, was located. But that knowledge was secret, so he’d have to get through this conversation, the approach he was going to take still yet to be decided.

He smiled at the thought of his dad’s face when he heard Harry overselling his son like that, didn’t matter that he still did not believe it was actually _him_ who called. He wasn’t doing _great,_ he was not even doing close to that. He was fine, at most, but he was glad that his friend lied like that, apparently still remembering their first conversation, deciding to help his apprentice to paint the picture that he was excelling at this new role that was foisted upon him.

“I’ll make sure to do that when hell freezes over.” With toxic sweetness in his voice, the boy smiled at the man next to him, the exaggeration of this expression saying everything about the sincerity of the statement.

And he just laid on the tiles, trying to avoid the curious gaze looking at him. That hasn’t worked, brunette all but abashed as he tweaked his position to have a good look at Lou’s face.

“Is it rude if I pry?” Styles asked, the tip of his index finger just slightly tracing the outline of his lower jaw, something very mindless in the action, the man’s body pivoted towards the smaller guy, relaxed and bizarrely enough, not annoying the teen with his intrusiveness.

Louis scoffed, eyes rolling at how ridiculous the question was. Of fucking course, it is rude to stick your nose into other people’s business, especially when they pretty explicitly showed that they weren’t keen on talking about it. And Styles just had to know it, being the personification of politeness on a regular basis. “It is.” He confirmed, knowing that it was not an actual question, more of a means to pry without actually doing that.

But then, who was Tomlinson to school him on manners, when on numerous occasions, he was the one invading Harry’s personal affairs? Now, when for the first time the script was switched, he couldn’t really, in his right mind, snap at the brunette, could he? He knew better than to try to convince himself that he wasn’t in the right with that thought, so he just exhaled softly, through his nose to hopefully purge a bit of that unreasonable frustration out of his system.

Maybe it worked a bit, the one and only thing the boy had used from years of therapy that was forced onto him during adolescence before he could end the long streak with a particularly nasty argument with his father. It was ridiculous, really. His dad, whenever it was that his son started getting problematic, protesting the unhealthy atmosphere he was being raised in, rightfully so at that, hopped straight to the matter of Lou’s deceased mother and that it was her, who was the cause of him acting out.

So, that’s how he ended up wasting years upon years of his life being dissected and evaluated by numerous psychiatrists, the rotation of which quite frequent since, from what Louis suspected, his father changed them as soon as he heard even a smidge of blame being put on him. It didn’t even matter that this was all but beneficial for the boy’s psyche because it was never about him in the first place. It was about giving the pops an excuse why his son was _like that,_ having somebody to pat him on the back and tell how he’s doing everything and there’s just something wrong with his child, something that he has no power over. The second somebody criticised him in the slightest aspect, that’s where the problems started.

That’s not what Aaron Tomlinson liked. He’d much rather blame something that, sure, perhaps had _some_ effect on his son’s development, not all that much since Louis hasn’t even remembered his mom, than take accountability and acknowledge that he’s not exactly a candidate for a father of the year award.

And that’s the tale of Louis, losing countless hours over good six years of his life. If he was to be honest, he’d say that the whole therapy debacle was more harmful than helpful. There’s only so many times you can tell the same stories just because there’s nobody sticking around long enough to build an actual, trusting relationship. Nothing ever came out of the sessions, other than his father having an excuse, shifting blame whenever somebody from school complained about his kid acting strange and having the support to the claim that he was doing something about it. Quite a load of bullshit that one.

Louis wasn’t sure how long he was off in his thoughts, not long enough for Harry to voice concern even if he had one. He just sat there, evaluating his friend’s expression. “Okay.” He shrugged his broad shoulders when he somehow, from Lou’s expression only, read that he was back, that flippancy very obviously fabricated. “Do you want to be alone?” The considerate side of the man, made an appearance, surprising after that initial inquisitiveness. That’s more like the Harry the teen was used to.

“No.” In spite of everything he felt right now, Tomlinson opposed. He wasn’t sure what it was, maybe his subconsciousness whispering than it wasn’t a good idea to get stuck in one of these pits where he would just think too much and ruin his mood for about three days, if not more. “It’s just a sore subject, I guess.” His hair ruffled in the back as he shook his head against the roof tiles.

What an understatement. Generally, he was accustomed to people not asking about his dad, just as much as his usual small circle was used to not even acknowledging that man’s existence if Louis hasn’t done that first. It rarely happened that he did, but sometimes he just needed somebody to hear him vent when dad has gotten unbearably annoying on the rare occasions the two of them spent some time around each other.

That’s why it all felt a bit… unusual, maybe that’s the word. It’s been a while since he had to explain to somebody that unconventional relationship he had with his parent, and now, with the huge argument they’ve had not that long ago, the same one that landed the boy on this very farm, he wasn’t sure what was there to say in the first place because if it was bad previously, now there wasn’t a word that seemed to cut it.

But then, maybe Harry would understand more than any of his pals did? With all their full families and perfect, ordinary lives the boy so very much envied, they really could only listen and nod, not much experience in dealing with shit he had to deal with, though if any of his usual friends were asked, they’d gladly switch lives with him. That’s just one of these things. The grass always greener on the other side and all of that bullshit.

Louis never had the guts to inquire, even if he was quite curious himself, but it was already pretty evident that Styles’ father wasn’t in a picture. Whether he took off like everybody did, died or there was a whole another story to him, he was very obviously not _there._ The suspicion started when Harry, with such adoration, boasted about his mother, never mentioning the second of his parents, not even once, which was odd because he spoke about his mum a lot. The belief was only further confirmed during the dinner at Anne’s, just the three of them.

And sure, Tomlinson had a hard time believing that there was a lot of people whose relationships with their fathers were even comparably as fucked up as his was. It wasn’t even him thinking that he’s the absolute centre of the universe like he sometimes tended to, he felt he was reasonable in that claim. But maybe that, however small trace of daddy issues that the teen assumed his friend had, would be something that makes them understand each other a bit better?

Probably not, considering that he was just as unwilling to talk about it as Harry was about his private life. And it was _fine_ , it’s not like they were butting heads about stuff or whatever. They were quite cool in the social department, making conversation easier and easier with every day they’ve spent around each other, even if the differences between them sometimes shone so brightly, Louis was thinking how in the hell they were _working_. Because they were, Harry’s easy-going standpoint more of an accomplice to their success than anything the teen had to offer. Hell, if anything, Tomlinson’s difficult attitude was sabotaging everything the other guy was contributing.

At the end of the day, they were just casual acquaintances, brought together only because a spoiled kid decided to pop some molly not to get bored to death by Drake’s set at Coachella, or more like losing in the crowd the pal he was supposed to share it with, that’s why there was some left in his jeans, and he had to face the consequences of his own actions, for the first time in forever. The consequences being… _this_.

To be frank, a week into his punishment, he’d say it was going far better than what he expected when his father made the announcement that Lou was being sent off. Maybe he should call home, just to tell him that, that he’s doesn’t necessarily hate it as much as he thought he would, that he hasn’t died yet and he’s not one of these shaking, on the verge of death from withdrawal drug addicts the parent probably saw him as. The chance of his dad being the one actually answering the call was too small to risk facing the humiliation of having pop’s secretary tell the man that his son called, not to mention the satisfaction the businessman would have, undoubtedly assuming that his kid was calling to beg him to be brought back.

It was so dumb, but Louis never cared to correct his dad whenever he would call him a dopehead or other, similarly affectionate nicknames he came up with. This was not the first misconception and surely not the last one either, so fuck it, Aaron Tomlinson had almost as much authority to make assumptions about his son as the lady from the deli the boy often popped into for a breakfast sandwich, maybe less than her, to be honest. That fact was the final straw it took to steer him away from the idea of calling home, going back to the resolution that if everything goes right and he doesn’t get seriously injured, or something similarly dramatic doesn’t happen, his father was not going to hear from him until he gets back. Surely he couldn’t have cared too much about maintaining contact when he was the one who confiscated the teen’s phone in the first place.

With his mood plummeted quite a few notches down from where it wasn’t exceptionally good, to begin with, Louis took a few more deeper breaths, relishing in the unfamiliar freshness of the air he could never get used to, one of the major things he was going to miss in the city.

“Sorry for bringing it up then.” Harry apologised, shifting the weight of his body onto his left hip, an arm supporting the top of his silhouette as he leaned to look over at Lou’s face. “Wanna go for that ride?”

And of course, Louis agreed, even if midnight was hardly the time he had in mind when Styles promised him that they were going to ride _later._ Right around eight, he just assumed the man forgot about it, and Louis, not caring enough to remind him, hasn’t said a word.

Turned out the farmer remembered, though the teen had a good idea that there wouldn’t be any ride if the brunette hasn’t felt guilty for unintentionally ruining the mood with a mention of his father. One way or another, there was one now, the two of them trotting in well-known direction, surrounded by the pleasant cacophony of the night forest, broken only by the clacking of their stallions’ hooves.

“You could’ve just told me that I was annoying, no need to expose me to certain death.” The boy scoffed, squinting his eyes so he could see at least something, though that hasn’t helped much. He just gave Grease full control, the horse, on the other hand, trusting his main keeper unconditionally, following after Raven who carried the brunette man.

Let’s just say that the concept of dying wasn’t as abstract as it usually was, the possibility of the stallion ramming into a tree and killing them on the spot quite real in Lou’s head, despite being numerous times reassured that the animals’ eyes were far superior over his in the whole seeing in the dark department. It hasn’t eased any concerns though, the teen sceptical towards the idea of making it out alive.

With sight almost completely taken away from him, the other senses heightened significantly. He could almost hear too much, an overwhelming mixture of the nightlife, gentle murmur of the leaves ruffled by the breeze. He was almost certain he could hear water, a stream maybe, somewhere to his right… no, left.

The air around them was less brutal than the one back at the farm. It smelled fresh, wetter almost, something mossy hitting Lou’s nostrils as they were making it through the forest, already past the point of their furthest endeavour to date.

“Posture.” Harry’s voice clashed with a screech that disrupted the silence, not too far behind them, from what Louis assumed. His heartbeat spiked at the sound, head darting in the direction of it. “It’s just a fox.” The man explained, not even bothered with that. “Look ahead, don’t slump.”

Of course, Louis complied, knowing all of that already, but too distracted with the threat of losing his life to care about his posture and such. As much as it was not ‘just a fox’ for the teen who has never been quite as close to wildlife as he was now, he decided to obey his superior, mindful of the fact that if he wanted to survive that, Harry’s expertise was his best bet. 

A bit anxious, he looked forward, didn’t matter he barely saw anything at all. Raven’s snorting the most reliable indicator where Harry was if he ever got too far ahead. The man considerately enough, quickly corrected his position whenever he caught himself speeding, not to pile more anxiety onto the boy behind him.

“See? Alive and well.” Harry laughed when they hopped off the backs of their respective horses, tying the animals to the trunks of unidentified trees.

Louis wasn’t exactly sure why they were stopping, but he followed his friend’s lead, no questions asked.

But there was a question, blaring inquiry in his head once the two of them neared the bank of a quite extensive river. There was a clearing in the tall weeds surrounding the body of water, the furthest thing from any of the beautiful beaches Louis had a chance of seeing throughout his life, but it seemed to be enough for the other guy. While the teen stood there with his mouth agape, looking around to find absolutely nobody there, Harry was already butt naked, stepping into the water as if it was the most normal thing to do.

A loud howl escaped his throat, his voice sending all the nearby birds off, the fluttering of the wings following Styles’ reaction to the cold water he found himself in. Then, he was cackling as he got deeper in, the water eventually covering him up to his collarbones. “Come on, the water is nice!” Styles beckoned the teen, obviously lying.

Tomlinson was more than certain that if he had something more than the faint moonlight falling onto his friend’s face, he would’ve seen the man’s chin trembling. “You should’ve told me to take my trunks.” His eyebrows furrowed as he was making up excuses for why exactly he wasn’t able to come in.

“Did you see me having any on?” The man laughed, nodding his head to summon Louis into the river.

With the option of cooling himself in the water, the teen stopped being hot altogether. Well, he was _a bit_ hot, fierce blush spilling onto his cheeks just when he caught a glimpse of Harry’s rear end as he was making his way off the bank. He could technically lie and claim that it was unintentional, but he would look like a fool as he, so very carefully, stole a few glances here and there, cautious not to seem like a fucking creep that he kind of was.

Not a creep, no. At least that’s not what he wanted to see himself as. He was appreciating the art, Styles silhouette might as well have been. What’s the difference between these renowned critiques, pretty much writing odes to butt-ass-naked sculptures of ancient Greek or Roman boys, and appreciating somebody a bit more… _contemporary_ in secret? No difference at all, at least in Lou’s opinion.

And of course, Harry hasn’t let him stay on the ground, whining and insisting until Louis’ feet made it into the water. Now, the boy, clad in his dark boxer briefs, not nearly as confident with himself to go full commando, sat where the water was shallow, coming to a little above his navel.

Harry was… somewhere. His cheerful whistling the only indication that he was alive and well, making leisurely strokes on his back, disappeared in the darkness. Only when he was a barely distinguishable shape somewhere in the distance, Louis looked away from him, previously using the freedom he had, the night a silent accomplice as he stole immoral gazes, cataloguing them very carefully in a place easy to access.

The stars were the other thing he was going to miss when he gets back, apart from the fresh air. They weren’t even a thing where he lived, the case more than likely similar in San Francisco, where his future residence was. Well, they existed, sure, Louis wasn’t an idiot, but the light pollution made it almost impossible to spot one.

So he looked up, tracing his eyes over the crowns of the trees on the opposite end of the river. Not even Harry’s whistling, louder and louder with every second, brought his gaze away from the sky.

“What are you doing all the way there? Come on!” The farmer’s shouting startled the teen just a bit, ripping through the quietness he grew used to already.

There was quite a few feet between them, the older one’s impeccable, at least in Lou’s very unprofessional opinion, breaststroke already taking care of the distance.

Louis looked down to assess if he could pull off the response he was preparing. Eh, maybe. With that, he decided to go for it. “Skinny dipping.” His eyes rolled, even if the only person around couldn’t have possibly seen it. “This is what dipping is.”

Harry’s scoff was far from silent, audible even with a few feet left between them. “You can’t swim, can you?” He asked, surprised. It was just one of these things that were so natural to him, that he rarely remembered that not everybody knew how to do them. A couple more strokes and he was already by the bank, sitting next to his friend, barely a few inches of space between them. “Cheater.” Droplets of cold water fell on Lou’s right shoulder as the brunette shook his head, disapproving of the briefs he spotted with a quick glance to the murky water, the band of them just barely peeking above the surface of it.

“Well, sorry. I’d rather not cause another Loch Ness Monster situation around here with my cock.” His eyes rolled again, just for himself.

Reassured by Harry’s presence, the man always attentive enough to save the boy’s life if it ever came down to it, he let himself relax, body supported on the elbows that dug into the slimy sand underneath him as he reclined, eyes going back to the sky.

Harry followed his suit, mimicking the stance the younger boy adapted. “Think about the tourism money!” The brunette snarked, looking down to his own toes, wiggling them over the surface of the water. “Monster sounds quite cocky though, pardon the pun.”

“Oh, shut up already.” Louis laughed. “You’re the one letting yours hang for children to see.” With pretend disgust, the teen shook his head, willing his head to stay up, stop the urge to have a glance, just to complete the image since he saw everything else.

“You mean yourself?” The man’s eyebrow cocked as he looked to the side, just in the right moment to see the smug smirk, result of the snarky remark Tomlinson was quite proud of, disappear in reaction to being more or less directly called a child. “We’re the only ones here.” Styles quickly chimed in, trying not to test the boy’s patience. 

It hasn’t helped much if it helped at all. Louis never really had any issues with his age, that being merely a number, of minor significance at that, just a few months before it becomes outdated and rarely mentioned again. But there was something irritating in the way Harry sometimes made it seem like there was at least two-generation gap between the two of them like the five years made the two of them unable to ever find a common language, even though it was already obvious that this wasn’t the case. It made him feel like he was somehow deprived, even finding the brunette attractive, thinking about him like he sometimes found himself thinking like he was lusting over somebody’s grandpa, not a guy merely half a decade his senior.

“So, you can’t swim?” Styles picked up when he realised that the boy on his side wasn’t even entertaining his mocking with a comment.

And right about then, Louis wished he spoke, a deep sigh stating the attitude he had towards admitting that he didn’t, in fact, know how to swim. Three. That was the number of swimming classes he took before he got discouraged, though he still stood by the opinion that he had a good reason to give up.

He must’ve been six or seven years old when his dad decided that every real man simply _had to_ know how to swim, one of a whole bunch of these unjustified, toxic expectations the man had towards his son. And then the lessons started, another hour each week taken away from his childhood. While it didn’t seem like much, what is an hour, after all, it added up to quite a few with the piano lessons he took for whatever reason, the swimming practice, karate, book club and whatever else the man could pay for to get his kid as far away from himself as he possibly could.

Louis was pretty certain that it was the third lesson he took when his most serious near-death-experience happened, though the memory of it might have been a bit overexaggerated as he was looking at the world with eyes of a child. No matter the severity of that accident, he was pretty sure he almost drowned when he got a cramp in his leg and disappeared underwater, choking with it as he, against all the theory he was taught, tried to catch a breath.

Fine, the instructor reacted, he was obviously very much alive. Still, the belief that he was let down by the adult that let him get to the point of almost losing his life, and the phantom burn in his throat that returned whenever he even as little as sniffed some chlorine in the air, was enough for him to fully give up on ever getting into water higher than to his navel.

And it was _okay._ Not everybody needed to possess every skill, at least that’s what Zoey, his babysitter at the time, told him right after she picked him up from that infamous class, his dad too busy to bother even checking if there was no permanent damage to his child. Of course, pops hasn’t exactly agreed with that statement, but they’ve reached the compromise that they were going to try again later when the shock from that incident blows away. Constantly claiming that he’s too scared to return, not that there wasn’t truth to that claim, Louis was finally old enough to stand his ground and make his dad completely shut up about him ever being able to swim.

At fourteen years old, Louis was not only still very much traumatised by the event from the past, or more likely the embellished by his imagination version of it, but he was also straight-up ashamed, the effect of his parent repeatedly reminding him that he should’ve been able to swim by then, so he never returned, and wasn’t going to.

“I can not drown if I want to.” He admitted, the darkness covering the blush he felt on his face, quite a variation from the rather cool temperature provided by the water in the river.

“And when exactly was the last time you felt like drowning?” Harry asked, his evident amusement clashing with Lou’s shameful sombreness, all Louis needed to regain control over his thoughts that wandered when the realisation hit that the brunette was so close, so very naked.

“When exactly have I arrived here?” He decided to ease the atmosphere with a joke. Well, it wasn’t exactly a joke, but the farmer had no idea about the psychological torment his apprentice went through while he was hauled to the farm by his dad’s business partner.

It must’ve been the first time when that kind of humour made Harry laugh, the man snorting ungracefully as he shook his head, trying to keep that critical attitude. “But you don’t want to anymore? I can take you off the suicide watch, right?”

“I’m a fragile baby, one more word and I’m hopping straight where my toes can’t reach the ground.” He chuckled, absentmindedly tracing shapes on his thigh with three of his fingers, eyes stuck to where Harry’s toes were still performing random choreography. “I guess it’s better than being stuck at home.” His shoulders shrugged, the movement deformed by a shiver that ran through his spine, whether it was the temperature of the water that caused it or the thought of being trapped at home with his dad, maybe a combination of both.

“Do you promise not to be mad if I tell you something weird?” The question weighed heavy on the teen’s shoulders, Harry’s eyes stuck to his friend’s face. He only gave a quick nod in response, though perhaps it was a stupid idea to promise something like that with absolutely no knowledge of what it was that he was going to hear. “I _might have_ put your name in Google to find your father.”

And… _fuck,_ that’s not what the boy had expected. He wasn’t even sure what else he saw coming, but not this. Still, it was hardly a matter to get mad over. “Cool.” Nothing else in terms of an answer struck him. Feeling that his skin was deep maroon at that point, uncertain how well the darkness was able to cover his shame, he let his eyes wander to the side, tilting his head away from his friend.

“I’m sorry.” Harry croaked. Maybe not thinking this decision through as well as he should have, he traced the tips of his fingers just barely over the dry skin of his friend’s arm, catching himself when he felt the boy flinch, wet traces he left barely an inch of length, not even that. “I let my curiosity take the wheel. From your attitude I just kind of assumed he must’ve been guilty of genocide or something like that.”

“And is he?” The teen mocked, shifting his position to where his knee was pressed just under his chin.

“I don’t know.” A bunch of cold droplets splashed when he finally let his hand fall back underwater from where he was holding it up, not really realising that he was stuck like that. “There’s a buttload of you. Tomlinsons I mean.”

There was no use stretching this masquerade any longer than it already lasted, not that it carried on for long, especially considering the brevity of their acquaintance. What Louis knew, was the fact that the question was going to return, sooner or later, especially aware how determined he was to find out the answer to that one question he had about the brunette, the one the man refused to answer.

Looking ahead, eyes stuck to the reflection of the moon distorted by the current of the river, he took a deep breath, giving himself a second to collect his thoughts. “Aaron Franklin Tomlinson.” He drew the name through his teeth, trying to forget that he wasn’t entirely alone, Styles helping out with the unusual stillness of his body. “Entrepreneur, stock trader, the destroyer of his son’s life.” A bitter chortle concluded the depiction that in its conciseness, managed to describe the pops to a T.

“Why would you say that?” Harry inquired. With astute very much unlike him, he was taking advantage of the crack in the boy’s demeanour, hoping to get some more out of that, aware of the stain he was placing on his morality with that unhealthy curiosity.

“Because that’s precisely who he is. A goddamned puppet master of the joke that my life is.” The boy struggled to push away the irritation he knew would resurface from the very depths of his soul once he lets himself talk about his dad. In an effort to get rid of the heat that set a camp in his cheeks, the anger overtaking as the source of it from where it was far different in character previously, Louis dipped his hands in the chilly water, pulling them back up, rubbing the moisture clinging to his skin into his face, raking his hair back with the residue. “I know how stupid that sounds. Poor little baby, having everything handed on a silver platter. Oh little one, does your daddy not love you? You poor thing!” He cooed, words tainted by bitterness he couldn’t get rid of. “You don’t have to say that, I’m well aware.”

“That’s not what I had in mind.” That distinct, hoarse gloriousness brushed in a whisp of air over the skin on Tomlinson’s back even if Harry hasn’t moved, raising goosebumps on the teen’s skin. “And I don’t think your father doesn’t love you. No matter how complicated things between you two actually are.”

“He never wanted me.” The boy admitted obvious in a whisper as if it was some classified information, not common sense. “I don’t know how it was before my mom passed away. I don’t exactly have anybody reliable to ask about that, but he’s been like that forever, at least as long as my memory reaches. I can only assume it has always been like that.” He shrugged his bump-covered shoulders. “I guess the awareness that he killed her couldn’t have been beneficial to our relationship.” He chuckled to himself, his tone oddly cavalier as he handled the matters of his deceased mother.

A coughing fit broke out behind the boy, summoning his attention, head snapping back to assess the situation. “He did WHAT?” Harry struggled through his throat as he patted the centre of his chest, trying to remedy himself, his friend’s confession causing him to choke on his spit.

“It was a car crash, a drunk driver.” His attitude not much more serious than before, the fact that he didn’t remember his mom ever existing, a big factor in that disconcerting disassociation from her. Maybe this was something he could’ve worked through in therapy, but he never got a chance to get as far. “I know it wasn’t his fault, he doesn’t.” He pressed his lips together, shrugging his shoulders. It’s not like he was going to tell the old man that, help him get over his deep-rooted issues with guilting himself for something he had no power over.

“That has to take a toll on a person.” The brunette observed, sitting straight on his bum, face in line with his friend’s.

“Don’t do that.” Louis protested. “Don’t try to make me sympathise with him.” His face distorted in a grimace, unreasonable irritation sparking inside of him. Sure, Harry hasn’t heard enough to know that pops wasn’t the tragically misunderstood character that suffered due to the bad narration in the tale that was the teen’s life. But with that, barely any awareness of the situation he was speaking about, he should’ve known better than to think he had any authority to give advice or even judge.

“I’m not. Just stating a fact.” The man’s long hands raised as he brushed his wet hair back, temporarily securing it there with a bit more water. “Where were you in all of that? Has something…”

“I wasn’t with them.” A long yawn stretched his lips, the boy not mindful of manners enough to risk getting river water into his mouth while trying to cover it.

The water shifted, droplets falling with a quiet noise as Harry scrambled to his knees. “Thank God.” He declared. Although Tomlinson wouldn’t exactly credit the questionable creator of the universe for his survival, he hasn’t said anything to that. “Come on up, you’re cold.” The progression from his knees to full-on standing up was a quick one, far more graceful than the smaller boy’s clumsy process.

“ _Fuck._ ” Tomlinson cursed under his breath, feet very comfortable on dark, hard ground, far more stable than the silted floor of the river that undisturbed, slowly flowed to his side.

He should’ve thought the decision to keep his boxers on a bit more than he had. While, sure, the cover was very appreciated at the moment, especially when he couldn’t really imagine himself talking about the hardships of his life with his dick out, but the second the air hit the drenched cotton, Louis found himself regretting not going commando.

There was no denying that he was overdramatic in that claim, but it felt like some cold, slimy slug clung to his hips, all around, not a feeling he took under consideration when he was deciding his swimming attire. The sole thought of putting his shorts over that made him feel disgusting.

“Just take them off, for God’s sake.” Harry laughed, well aware of the difficult choice his pal was facing now, only because he, more or less voluntarily, had listened through a whole rant about the wetness of Lou’s underwear. “I’m not a pedo, promise.”

Lou’s own accusation, used as means to make a joke, brought like a hundredth jolt of annoyance that ran through the teen’s veins. “I hate that.” He drew through his teeth, more venom in these words than in anything he said before. The irritation fully overtook the embarrassment, he took his friend’s advice, stepping out of his wet briefs with carelessness matching the one Harry flashed him when he was putting his clothes back on.

“What?” With eyebrows furrowed, the man inquired, everything but interested in what it was that Louis was presenting to the world while he pulled his shorts on. Good, the coldness of the water made the organ far from worthy of exhibiting.

“Talking about me as if I’m a child.” Louis admitted, foot already slid into the stirrup. The heavens were on his side, making him seem like a professional as he mounted Grease with unparalleled ease, getting ahead of Harry who quickly caught up to him on Raven’s back.

“I thought it was funny.” The man admitted, voice apologetic. “I’m not going to do that anymore if it annoys you. Sorry.”

The apology was accepted with a nod of Lou’s head, one that could’ve been missed in the darkness surrounding them. Trotting along the familiar path, they stayed quiet. The boy was far less anxious this time, reassured after not dying on his way to the river, even letting Grease gain some speed, careful not to follow his instinct and cling to the animal with his whole body.

With the bolder tempo, they were back on the farm in no time, taking a bit of a detour, purposefully elongating their journey just to keep their adventure secret from Frank and Ada who, with her light sleep, would’ve immediately caught onto them with as little as the clacking of the hooves on the ground.

“What, you have a curfew or something?” Louis couldn’t let that opportunity slip away from him, mocking the stealthy approach Harry forced on them as they were coming back from their little dip in the river. “Maybe it’s not me who’s the baby after all.” His elbow shot to the right, nudging the taller guy in the side.

“Oh, no. Don’t get it twisted.” Styles warned, his voice unfamiliarly stern in the act. “You’re the baby, and that’s not up for a debate.”

Annoyed at the brunette not keeping the word, he only gave him minutes ago, Louis scoffed. “I fucked guys older than you.” His remark quite… _bold_ , to say the least, especially considering his previous attempts at trying to not seem as blatantly gay as he usually was.

Well, the cat was out of the bag, yeah? He was deliriously exhausted, his brain too focused on keeping his balance to filter the words that came out of his mouth, though maybe the boy should’ve prioritised a bit better. Falling over, legs giving up under his weight, somehow sounded better than the uncalled for, far from the border of oversharing confession that, while an attempt to make him seem a bit more adult, mature, has most fucking definitely done the exact opposite.

“Sure thing, baby.” The brunette cooed and winked at his friend, mocking smirk on his lips as he walked with hands pushed into the pockets of the shorts he was wearing.

They stayed silent, though that streak was nowhere near as heavy to bear as these few seconds between Tomlinson’s idiotic revelation and Harry’s answer. So, it was fine, Harry wasn’t going to shun him for being… _different._ A ton was taken off his shoulders when he let that detail of his life be known, no matter that he’s done that in quite an idiotic way.

Luck was on his side this time. As much as he didn’t think Harry would be capable of this kind of behaviour, Tomlinson could see the thing going south very fucking quick if his friend’s outlook on the matter wasn’t as accepting as it turned out to be.

But it went okay, smoother than Louis ever expected it to, not that he planned on coming out to the man with whom he was going to part ways in not a few weeks. Even if he thought disclosing that information was far from essential in their relation, he found himself falling asleep somewhat relieved that night; disgusting after skipping the shower, but comforted by Harry’s reaction, or rather the lack of any significant one, just as if he knew already. Now that the boy thought about it, head pressed to a pillow, running water from Styles’ shower lulling him to sleep, there was a strong possibility that it was precisely the case, he was never great at hiding his true self from people he was close with.


	6. Chapter 6

“Ouch!” Tomlinson yelped, quickly tugging his palm from underneath Harry’s. “What now? You’re going to crush my hand because you can’t lose?” He mocked, knowing that there’s not too much to that claim. Or maybe there was. Who knew, perhaps when the man wasn’t purposefully sabotaging himself to let his friend win, he was just as much of a sore loser than the other guy was?

Didn’t matter. It was Louis whose hand was at the bottom, he was the one who slapped the pile first; therefore, it was rightfully his. It wasn’t nearly as easy as it should’ve been. To claim the stack underneath the jack, he had to put up quite a fight with Harry who stubbornly held his hand in place. 

“I’m not losing.” The brunette insisted, pressing his fingertips down to the plaid blanket they were sitting on, caging the cards within his spread palm. Of course, his effort was quite pointless. Still, he let himself have this childish outburst, enjoying the exasperation growing on his pal’s face as he pried off the fingers with his own, only to watch his labour go to waste when the finger he won the battle with, snapped back where it was before. 

“Oh, you sure are.” Tomlinson raised his left hand, exhibiting the stack of cards he held in it, already quite a bit thicker than what Harry held in his possession, and that was without the ones he was yet to add, held hostage by the other player. 

With all the things Styles was so effortlessly superior over his younger friend at, his reflexes turned out to be a bit inferior to the boy’s, therefore resulting in his poor performance in slapjack they occupied themselves with during a bit of downtime after dinner, just a moment or two to let the food settle in their stomachs before they go back to their usual business.

“Tired, are we?” The brunette changed the topic, addressing the yawn that distorted the teen’s expression. Satisfied with the amount of struggle he put his companion through, he lifted his hand from atop the pile of cards, letting the boy shuffle it and put into his stack, taking away all the excitement of that small win with tossing his cards onto the blanket, quite explicitly giving up the fight.

It wasn’t fair. Louis almost pouted at how he was robbed of the satisfaction of winning at something against Harry, but he didn’t exactly need to give the man any more reasons to consider him a kid, so he hasn’t done that. He just swiped the cards, therefore completing the deck and changed his position, laying on his belly, shuffling through the pieces of very visibly vintage cardboard. 

“Haven’t slept well.” He admitted, hand darting on an instinct to rub one of his eyes. “That damn clock of yours doesn’t let me fall asleep.” The complaint left his lips, words concluded with another yawn. 

Ever since the two of them switched rooms, Louis found himself struggling to fall asleep, at least at times where he wasn’t absolutely drained by the time his head hit the pillow. The culprit of that unusual difficulty was quickly identified as the alarm clock that stood on a scratched-up nightstand. 

The quiet tick of moving hands was enough to irritate the shit out of the boy who was already on edge with Frank’s snoring. Hell, if Harry added to that with his, less roaring, but still there soundtrack, it was all too much. Night after night, the teen found himself digging the damn thing underneath the pile of clothes in his wardrobe. It worked, the solution, though that completely stripped the alarm clock of its main function, Louis missing two or three early mornings as a consequence.

“Early night for you today then.” Styles announced, observing his friend’s hands as he shuffled through the cards, observing the faded, yellowed bikini snapshots printed on the backs of them. 

“Oh God, and what will you do? You poor thing!” Exaggerated worry raised the pitch of Lou’s voice just a bit. “Gonna bore yourself to death without all the babysitting!” He continued, hanging his eyes on the picture of a blonde printed on the queen of spades. Her overbleached, permed hair screamed the eighties louder than anything else ever did.

“I’m going out actually.” The man confessed, his demeanour borderline bored, words stretched to hold that illusion. “But I’m sure I’d be going mad if that wasn’t the case.” His fisted palm clashed with the smaller one’s arm, the force of that nudge shoving the unsuspecting teen a bit to the side.

“Hot date, yeah?” Lou remarked, not taking his eyes off the cards, fascinated with the deck that, back when it was produced, was more than likely considered scandalous. “With Miss North Carolina?” He presented the appropriate card to the man who scoffed at the sight of very tanned brunette, one that was bound to have more or less experience with skin cancer at this point.

“Yeah, her. Exactly.” Harry laughed, turning onto his back, eyes snapping closed as he shielded his sensitive retinas from the bright sunlight. “A few people from school came down to visit, so we’re going to hang out a bit.” 

A nod was all the teen could scramble in terms of reaction to that explanation. Not only he had no idea what there was to say to that, but he also hasn’t thought Harry was obliged to disclose his plans to him. 

“You were curious why I’ve stayed here.” The farmer broke the brief silence, speaking over the barely-there whispering of the underripe corn that shuffled with every gust of the gentle breeze that eased the swelter just a bit. 

Tomlinson’s eyebrows pinched together at that, the introduction to his question being finally answered. There really was no other reason for Harry to say it if it wasn’t with that intent. “I was.” His shoulders shrugged with pretend flippancy, eyes following curled strands of faded, scorched by the sun grass when he was done with evaluating the ladies at the backs of the cards, the deck laid undisturbed on the very edge of the blanket, secured with a rubber band.

After that, there was nothing. For a long beat. Both of them stayed still, Harry gaining the courage to concede something he has never admitted out loud, Louis preparing to hear whatever was getting prepared to be laid onto him. He didn’t want to seem intrusive, so he just listened, unwilling to miss anything the man next to him had to say, already treating this conversation as some sort of bonus since it’s not like he talked about his dad with the expectation to get something in return.

“Have you ever felt like you weren’t deserving of anything more than you already have? Not capable to make life better for yourself?” The weight of these words lingered around them, too heavy to be swept away by the blow of wind that ruffled the corn and their hair. 

This… couldn’t be real, could it? Has Louis felt like that sometimes? Kind of, though in his case it was a bit different than that, considering that he hasn’t really thought about what he was and wasn’t able to do since in his life, there wasn’t exactly a lot of things he had control over. Well, sure, he could argue and throw fits to oppose this or that, but he rarely could influence anything of higher significance than whether he was going to learn Chinese or not. 

“You’re joking.” The boy scoffed, not thinking over how his words were going to be received, reaction far from appropriate considering the surprising heftiness of Harry’s confession, very evidently weighing on the man like nothing else they have ever talked about before.

“Oh, am I?” Unfamiliar bitterness made it through in the mocking tone of brunette’s. “If you say so.” His hand stretched sideways, grazing the grass with his fingertips, stumbling upon a rock he picked up and started tossing in the air just to occupy himself.

The teen almost slapped himself for the dismissive manner he addressed the situation in. The feeling of utmost disappointment with himself was only heightened by the fact that none of this derision was there when, just a few hours ago, he let the man in on a secret of the struggles he faced in his day-to-day life, even if, in his case, the mocking would’ve been far more justifiable.

With a soft sigh, he turned onto his side, glueing his eyes to Harry’s brooding countenance. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It doesn’t really matter.” The man cut the friend off, not exactly aware he was being stared at. “I just sort of wanted to give you something for yesterday.”

And that… In all the time he wondered about the reason why Harry never left, he never came close to suspecting the answer being nearly as grim as it turned out to be. Because, really… it was ridiculous to him.

Had he been in Harry’s shoes, he’d think he was invincible, some kind of Avenger able to achieve everything with little to no effort. It really just goes to show how discrepant the way you perceive yourself can be with what people see you as. Even that man, so impressively superior over the young boy, borderline role model, had some darkness in him, a saboteur telling him that he’s not good enough where he so obviously was.

The teen stayed quiet, suspecting that him offering advice would be just as out of line as if Harry tried to do the same the night prior. He wished there was something he could say, feeling somehow obliged to reassure the guy even if words of some kid he only just met were hardly enough to resolve years and years of psychological struggles that landed the farmer there. 

They just laid there, enjoying their downtime in the sun, quietly accompanying each other in their respective thought endeavours. It wasn’t any colder than it was the day before, still unbearably hot, though the breeze sort of made it feel like it was, even if just a bit, which only rendered their relaxation a tad more pleasurable.

For no apparent reason whatsoever, Louis found himself stirring out of his slumber, the darkness surrounding him clearly stating that he wasn’t supposed to be awake just yet, far from that probably. Feeling the cover slipping off the mattress, he tugged on his edge of the patterned cotton, his head snapping back when he met resistance.

“What are you…” Groggy, the boy questioned Harry’s presence in his bedroom, unexpected so late at night. Well, sure, it wasn’t unusual that the two of them spent time together, even as late as it was now. The digital clock Louis found swapped for his previous one when he got upstairs after dinner showed three in the morning, but having the man there while he slept was far from normal… at least he sure as fuck hoped it wasn’t any routine he wasn’t aware of.

The farmer… acted like he hasn’t even heard the boy, trying to force himself under the cover, claim just a piece of the mattress for himself with determination.

Lou’s confusion cleared up a bit, when a gust of Harry’s breath pooled on his face, the boozy punch of it answering all the questions from a second ago. “God, you’re pissed, aren’t you?” He chuckled, unable to be mad at the man who apparently forgot about the switch of the bedrooms from a few days ago. “This is not your bed anymore, remember?” He reached his hand towards the nightlamp, tugging on the string to put the light up. 

Louis’ whole body jerked upwards, the boy upright once the yellow glow landed on the brunette’s face, very far from the standard he was accustomed to. “Jesus, what is that?” He asked, still trying to be mindful of his volume, alarming the hosts somehow hasn’t seemed like a great idea.

He looked at his friend, shock painted on his face as he observed bruises questionably embellishing Styles’ face. “Pie.” The brunette answered the question he so clearly misunderstood, his eyes darting to the side to have a look on a plastic container he must’ve set on the nightstand before. “I thought you would like it, it’s my mom’s.” He elaborated, words deformed, slurry to the point where he almost sounded foreign. “I might have eaten some.”

The struggle to stay serious was real when the teen, still concerned and filled with questions, assessed the damage on his pal’s face. “It’s fine, you can finish it if you want to.” The permission left his lips while he was already scrambling onto his legs. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, mister Tyosn.” 

On the verge of falling asleep, Louis padded his way to their shared bathroom, pushing his friend ahead of him with both hands pressed to the taller man’s shoulder blades, even then meeting with more resistance than there should’ve been since he just wanted to help, for fuck’s sake!

“Sit.” The boy commandeered, his order quickly obeyed by Harry, whose silhouette swayed just a bit as he perched at the edge of the bathtub, his posture filling the sober guy with doubt whether the farmer was going to be able to keep his balance. “So is it that what you do?” Lou chuckled, shuffling through the understocked medicine cabinet, pulling out whatever he felt he could use. “Just once in a while going out and picking fights?” His tone remained amused as he pressed the pad of his thumb to his friend’s busted bottom lip, one that swelled quite a bit from where it was already quite sizable, to begin with.

Harry flinched, face deforming in a grimace caused by the teen dissolving the coagulated blood with a wet flannel. “Sorry I woke you up.” Styles struggled to get his eyes opened, eyelids heavier and heavier with every blink. “I forgot it’s not my bed.” 

‘Yeah, yeah. Cut it out with the talking.’, was what Louis would’ve said if he wasn’t himself, or maybe… if he was, the difference between home Louis and this Louis so vast, he sometimes found himself confused whether of the two was the authentic one. Not now though, this was not the time for existential pondering and rediscovering himself as a person.

“All good.” Lou decided to nod, reassuring his friend with a smile that Harry, in his drunken haziness, couldn’t have recognised as being nearly as fake as it was. Hell, even if he was sober, Louis was doubtful whether they knew each other well enough for the man to catch onto him. Real or not, his expression was greatly contrasting with Harry’s, jaws clenched as his beaten face was being tended to. “You’re gonna wake up soo hot, you have no idea.” His comment as means to both keep the guy’s spirits up, and maybe keep him awake, Harry very visibly struggling to stay conscious. “You’ll live.” With his fingers, he spread the man’s eyelids apart just to confirm the suspicion that he spotted the broken blood vessel correctly. 

With streaks of blood and dirt gently washed away with a cloth, Harry’s face presented far better than it did previously. According to the rather little experience in having his mug beaten, Louis knew that the worst of it was yet to be revealed, in the morning more than likely. Now, he was just dabbing at his pal’s bottom lip, applying pressure to keep it from bleeding. 

Harry was all but cooperative in the process, squirming like a hyperactive kid, mumbling incoherent gibberish and not making his friend’s job any easier. He sort of had an excuse, so obviously hammered, only that keeping the younger boy from snapping at him.

With Harry’s face cleaned up, at least as well as the lacklustre first aid kit let Tomlinson do it, the boy took upon himself the chore of getting Harry to bed, the correct one this time. “Shit. You’re heavier than you look, big boy.” He struggled a laugh, at the same time trying to stay upright with his friend’s arm swung behind his neck.

Let’s just say that their height difference hasn’t made the task any less straining on Louis, even the few steps they took before he pushed his friend onto the single mattress were a true test of his physical ableness. “Hungry, are you?” The teen reacted to the rumbling of the man’s stomach that broke through the layers of tissue that hasn’t managed to trap it inside. 

A displeased murmur was all he got in return, merely a reaction to Tomlinson trying his best to take a t-shirt off his friend’s torso, struggling through every single unyielding limb. With a few sighs and a groan or two of his own, he succeeded, tossing the piece of clothing onto the floor like Harry never would. 

“It’s for you.” The older one opposed when, after a quick adventure to his own bedroom, Louis offered him the remnants of the pie that was already about half-eaten. “My mom would kill me.” Genuine fear shone in his bloodshot eyes as he looked from the treat to the boy’s face.

“We don’t have to tell her, do we now?” Louis whispered just as if he was talking to a child, building up the secrecy of the agreement.

Harry didn’t need anything more than that to dig into the pie with a spoon. “Yeah. Good.” He mumbled between the bites, only three or four needed to get through all of it, the container discarded on the end table. It wasn’t much, but hopefully enough to get him through the night, raiding the fridge was not a viable option if Louis wanted Ada to stay unaware of their situation. He wasn’t even sure why he didn’t want her to know. It’s not like she wouldn’t be let in on the secret by the bruises that were obviously still going to be on the brunette’s face when he wakes up, staying for days to come, weeks maybe. His logic might have been slightly flawed with the sleepiness that never left him. If his ability to fall asleep had decreased, quite significantly at that, the hardships of waking up haven’t changed all that much.

“Can you help me out a bit?” Louis chortled as he was wrestling with the shorts he was now trying to get off Harry’s hips, knowing all too well that there was no talk of sleeping comfortably with these bad boys on. 

And of course, Harry couldn’t, just lying there, looking more like a corpse than an actual, alive person. The sweat Louis worked up just trying to be a good friend, rendered the shower he took just a few hours before useless, the boy already scheduling another one as he laid back into his bed, realising that he hasn’t closed the doors only when Styles fully slipped past the sleep curtain, his snoring quite a few decibels louder now that he was drunk.

For whatever reason, Tomlinson hasn’t cared enough to get up and close it, especially knowing that two layers of thin wood were nowhere near enough to stop the sound fully. It must’ve been the sleepy haze he hasn’t yet managed to get out of before making it back to his room that caused him to fall asleep easier than he would’ve ever expected to.

-

“He’s alive!” The teen exclaimed when the bathroom door opened and Harry, with unusual to him shyness, peeked his head inside, that hesitation disappearing once he found his friend awake, shuffling through a drawer of the dresser he had everything piled in.

The grimace on the brunette’s face reminded the boy to be more mindful of his volume.

“I overslept.” The man walked in, in a few steps making it to the bed, unceremoniously falling onto the mattress he gave up for the sake of his younger pal, at least for the time being. Even the creaking of the bed frame was enough to make him regret ever being born, eyes squeezed together as he was getting through another spike of the hangover.

“You don’t say!” Louis’ eyes darted to his clock, faded by the sunlight LEDs showed that it was almost noon when Harry finally managed to drag his exhausted body off the bed, feeling perhaps worse than he remembered feeling when he was laid to bed by his friend. “Don’t worry, though. I’ve taken care of the stables.”

There really was no use admitting that he was the one to blame for Harry’s prolonged slumber, the alarm sabotaged by the teen when he was woken up, using the three minutes their clocks were out of sync to pad to Styles’ bedroom and do the crime against the man’s immaculate organisation.

With how lenient the supervisor was on him, letting him get an extra hour or two if they had a particularly late night or during the time where Lou was readjusting his biological clock, it was the least he could do in return. And he actually has taken care of pretty much everything Styles would’ve tackled by noon, the dreaded cow duty being the one exception from that. Well… he fed the animals and cleaned around them, grimacing fiercely through every second of the chore, but there was no talk of him ever handling milking in his life.

The true fear factor kind of moment for him though, was when all the other horses were confined in their respective boxes, taken off the paddock before the sun started getting unbearable. Then, it was only Louis and Raven, a misunderstood, in Harry’s opinion, baby that was just as tender and well-behaved as the rest of the pack, just a bit more ominous-looking with his jet black coat and stout build. Fine, that wouldn’t be nearly as hard to believe if it wasn’t for the disclaimer the boy was given on his first day on the farm, so that’s what kept him cautious.

But he pushed through, against his supervisor’s orders, very carefully, he led Raven back to the stables, thinking that his chances of survival were significantly bigger than if he tried to slather the stallion’s muzzle with sunscreen. As much as he hasn’t tested that theory, he was still alive obviously, so his choice was decent as it turned out.

The shadow of confusion swept over Harry’s face, but his doubts were left unsaid, the man apparently deciding to find out for himself whatever he was actually wondering about. “Thank you.” He groaned into a small decorative pillow, the cool side of artificial silk imitation relieving the soreness of his face that spiked with every shift of expression.

“Took you this long to finally look presentable.” The boy mocked, turning towards the bed, sitting cross-legged at the very foot of the mattress,

“Shut it, funny guy.” The brunette scoffed, not appreciating the joke, though his hostility was far from authentic. As much as he knew the man already, Louis had a hard time believing that he was capable of being negative towards anybody. But then, looking at his face, that theory might have been a misconception of sorts. “I think we’ll slack about today, if that’s fine with you.”

“Oh no! Tragic, really.” Louis laughed, the shaking of his head a bit of an obstacle as he was trying to brush a comb through his still slightly damp hair, the moisture almost fully evaporated after the shower he took not even half an hour ago. “I wonder what would be the reason behind that!” The boy ridiculed, a sly smirk on his lips as he leaned down and unapologetically started navigating around at his friend’s swollen bruises. “Have you won at least?” His eyes rolled as he assessed Harry’s face, silently patting himself on the back for doing fine enough of a job of tending to all the cuts.

“Do I look like I have?” The man laughed, sitting up to stop his pal from poking around his face, not willing to admit to it hurting. “Was going to visit mum but I don’t think this is a good idea anymore. You feel like going swimming a bit? So hot out there.” That claim was supported only by a guess, the man yet to leave the farmhouse.

With a bored sigh, Louis let himself fall down onto the mattress. “You have any toys I could borrow? Build a castle near the kiddie pool?” Unexpected bitterness made it through with his words, one he dismissed immediately when he grew aware of it.

“I’ll see what I can find.” Harry winked from above his friend, fully stood up. “Come on, up now.” He reached for the smaller boy, Louis catching his hand more on instinct than anything else. Soon he was upright as well, stumbling just a bit after being hauled like a literal ragdoll by the man who might as well have been picking up a pillow, not an average-sized person.

“You look terrifying in that lighting.” Louis distracted himself from the task he’s been perfecting over… however long it was since they’ve started. “Try getting beat up pre Halloween and you’ll save on a costume.”

In retaliation for being teased by his younger friend, Styles pushed on the boy’s legs, making him panic just a bit when the surface of the water gave way, and his legs weren’t ready to support him just yet. Harry caught him, of course, knowing that the teen is one minor inconvenience away from calling quits on the farmer’s dumb idea to teach him how to swim. “That’s what you want to die over? A lame joke?” Amused with himself, the brunette took a step back, acknowledging that they were standing a bit close to each other, especially with people being able to spot them from the opposite side of the lake, where a sizable group was relaxing.

Louis, not protesting the fact that the joke might not have been the absolute top tier, sucked a full load of fresh, slightly swampy air into his lungs and pivoted onto his back, suspending himself exactly where he was previously interrupted, not without a good reason though.

“I’m here.” Harry reassured, grazing a single finger over one of the teen’s submerged shoulder blades, just to confirm that he was, in fact, attentive and ready to intervene if anything goes south, even if he wasn’t flat-out securing the boy with his hands. With blue eyes being completely closed, shielding themselves from blinding sunlight and slightly gross water, Louis, with a dose of trepidation holding him back, outstretched his limbs, letting himself float like that, getting familiar with the water.

Only when Harry, so out in the open, asked the boy if he trusted him, Louis realised that he actually did, no matter that there were little to no arguments supporting that confidence in the man that led him to pretty much laying his entire life on the brunette’s hands. Well, that was not entirely the truth. Styles already saved him three or four times from being kicked in the dumb head of his when he got distracted and forgot about proper etiquette when handling horses. Still, there was much more to letting himself be led so deep into the water, far further than he ever would’ve gone on his own, and remaining moderately calm as he was ordered to surrender to the element he was still untrustworthy of, but he did exactly that.

At one point, he knew he had to put the events of the memorable third swimming class in the past and be a man, he was now in the process of becoming. Turned out that this little vacation of his hastened that moment in his life, landing him back in the water quite a few years earlier than he thought he could ever return.

“Kick.” Harry commandeered, not a trace of impatience in his voice, an appreciated consequence of teaching numerous neighbourhood kids how to swim. As humiliating as it was to have the farmer more than likely think of him as of another kid he was looking over, some kind of skill camp that he was putting the teen through, Louis would much rather have it this way rather than whatever another approach his teacher could have adapted.

And Louis kicked, just how he was taught to, his feet and growing panic propelling his body a bit closer to the land. Even with his ears submerged, he could hear his instructor laughing, nothing mocking in that sound though, it sort of reassured him a bit, but not a whole lot. ‘You can still touch the ground here.’ He reminded himself on a loop, being mindful of the breathing that started getting a bit out of hand until he spotted the older guy closing the increasing distance between them. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The profanity slipped his lips when he lost the fight with a slight burn of the muscles of his unexercised legs.

“I’m absolutely famished, how do you feel about a break?” Styles proposed, his hand still wrapped around the bicep of a pal he just now secured with a decided grip, even if it wasn’t exactly necessary, the teen taking care of his own balance quite well.

“Yes, please.” The exaggerated enthusiasm elicited a chuckle from the taller guy, unexpected even if he had an idea that he wouldn’t have to talk his friend into coming out for a minute or two.

“Your castle seems to be holding up pretty well, doesn’t it?” The man mocked as they were already sitting on blankets padding the bed of the truck they drove to get to the lake, quite a bit further away from the farm than their first spot. It was better in a sense that the water was warmer, there was no current Lou would have to fight against and there weren’t many treacherous dips in the floor that could betray the boy, all three deeper spots mapped out in Harry’s memory, where he just could tell his pal not to go. The teen, despite his regular stubbornness, hasn’t fought him on that.

Louis let his eyes hang on the mound of wet, loose soil he deemed a mansion, made with the help of a colourful, cracked kid’s bucket the two of them found discarded on the caricature of a beach at the very edge of which they were now parked, opting for having their sandwiches on the bed of the truck rather than on the unpleasant ground. “Look how funny you are.” He derived, voice devoid of any sign of amusement as he chewed through his half of peanut butter and jelly sandwich he only identified as his own creation due to the huge gash he poked through the bread trying to spread the butter on it.

Harry’s silhouette shook as he chuckled, not matching the boredom on the face of a boy he was now looking at, the two of them on the opposite sides of the boot, measuring each other with careful gazes, though the smaller one wasn’t nearly as obvious as the other guy was.

With sunglasses providing that layer of secrecy to his endeavour, Louis found himself letting his eyes wander around, bolder than he would usually be if it wasn’t for the lenses covering his eyes. It was nice, the front-row view he had, watching how disappearing droplets of water slid down Harry’s sunkissed torso, outlines of brunette’s muscles detectable just enough underneath the layer of pudge insulating his organs.

Harry was delightfully built. That was not exactly any revelation by then. Louis took advantage of the moment, just little something he was taking away from that, feeling like he was justified due to the farmer pretty much forcing him into swimming in the first place. If you ask him, he was perfectly fine by the shore with his bucket.

Where he was previously fretting the consequences, his more or less intended coming out would bring, remembering quite an amount of stories about friendships ruined by that revelation, Harry didn’t seem to care a single bit, his approach not exactly predictable from the get-go. Thankfully though, the brunette was secure enough in his masculinity not to wrap himself up with three layers of cloth the second they’ve gotten out, adding additional protection in the shape of barbwire just to keep the homo away because obviously, they were all just lusting after every guy they passed on the street.

Well, it wouldn’t be completely wrong in that case. Louis found his superior smoking hot, but in no world was he brave enough to ever act up on it. So, with that resolution, he let himself appreciate the effects of Styles’ hard work from afar, thanking his lucky stars for the opportunity, nothing harmful in that.

“You are absolutely insane.” Louis shook his head as he watched his friend lay all the blankets he managed to get his hands on in layers, insulating their unusual choice for a mattress as a compromise Tomlinson so fiercely fought for.

Harry hasn’t even acknowledged the insult, undisturbed on his task. “What you’ve been doing when I was gone yesterday?” In an effort to change the subject, the man nudged such an outdated topic.

“Sat with Ada for a bit.” Louis shrugged, not that the farmer could’ve seen it with his back turned to him. “Such a great chat we had, you can only imagine.” With a deep inhale, the shorter guy got up, throwing himself onto the construction the brunette has made for them to sleep on, the hay not nearly as bouncy as he would expect it to be. There went all the hopes for at least decent rest. “Went to bed quite early, was tired.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tired.” The instigator of that stupid sleepover chuckled, throwing himself onto the vacant side of the improvised bed he created for the two of them. “You just simply couldn’t live without me, could you?” His elbow nudged Tomlinson’s side, the boy already occupied with a word puzzle game on his friend’s phone that he lately spent more time using than its rightful owner, using it to have at least some contact with the outside world.

Well… that was a bit of an overstatement. This ‘contact’ he so bravely boasted about, was limited to pre-ordering a video game during his time off-grid. He wanted to see pop’s face when he realised that somehow, his son was still spending money, but that was to be left in the realm of dreams.

“You know me so well.” Some of the strands of hay found their way in between his hair as he shook his head, smirking only for himself to know about the expression. “And is it the moment where I find out what it was that you were doing?” The question was repeated for the millionth time, at least that’s what it felt like.

Sure, Harry’s face hasn’t left a lot unanswered when it came to speculating the events of the time they’ve spent apart, nor has the heavily inebriated state he returned in. Yet, with all that information, there was a question of what exactly has gotten the man into that fight in the first place.

Maybe it was the alcohol that turned him from the most peaceful little teddy bear Louis ever knew, always the first one to compromise when a particularly annoying teen started arguing with him, sometimes without much of a reason when the mood was right, or wrong rather, into an argumentative asshole that went around and picked fights with people. It’s not something Tomlinson could’ve known, the drunk Harry he witnessed not even twenty-four hours ago was all but aggressive, even bigger teddy bear than usual, more cuddly definitely. He wasn’t going to find out either, especially with the man’s attitude towards supplying even a drop of booze to his underaged friend, so he really could only ask.

And the man groaned. If it wasn’t for the gust of wind that murmured through the barn, he would’ve suspected the power of that sound for being vast enough to propel the questionable electrical installation, shadows going ham as the bulb swung on the cable it was hung from. “I only have flashbacks.”

Fair… that was plausible with how hammered the man was when he returned late at night. And the boy hasn’t inquired further, just busying himself with the game he hasn’t sourced any particular enjoyment from, continuing merely for the tapping of his fingertips that felt oddly therapeutic after ages without that so very familiar motion.

“Can I ask you a question?” Harry spoke over nothing at all, a complete silence around them as the laptop the man brought for them to watch a movie on, died around half an hour ago, the two of them laying in the darkness broken only by the screen of Styles’ phone, casting light on Lou’ face as he was the one who handled the device.

A grimace deformed Lou’s face as he drew his eyebrows together, intrigued but mildly distressed with what he was going to be asked about, the preliminary question clearly indicating that the main one was a bit more than regarding his music taste or something similarly mundane. “Uh oh.” His palm shot up to cover his mouth as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing, that act not doing much to alter Harry’s contemplative demeanour. “Go on, shoot.” Granting permission the only viable option at this moment. Well, he could have not given that green light, but he could see their sleepover going south real quick after that.

“What is it that you would want to do?” The harsh rasp of his voice eased up a bit, the volume he spoke with decreased significantly, borderline whispers hanging in the dry air around them. “If you could choose. Something other than business school.”

And that left Louis… speechless. He opened his mouth to answer the inquiry, only to close it immediately when the entire vocabulary he acquired throughout his life vanished. Looking from the brunette’s face to a not especially interesting spot in the distance, he started nibbling on his lip, striving for something he could do instead of speaking, the one thing he was awaited to start.

Very visibly flustered, the teen started tugging on a hem on a sleeve of the t-shirt he was wearing, the material not something he was even remotely used to in bed, but it’s not like he was going to strip almost naked with the farmer mere inches away from him. “I don’t know…” His voice barely a mumble. “Wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid.” A derisive scoff slipped past his pressed lips. “Which now I’m thinking had the same odds of happening as doing anything other than what the pops had planned for me from the start.”

As stupid as it was to constantly complain about having his whole life already arranged when he didn’t even have a proper alternative for what to do with himself, he never needed to know that. What’s the point of wondering about the future if you have little to no ability to influence it? No point at all. That’s why he hasn’t really pondered over this all that much, at least not since he realised how little power he had over his own life.

Okay, this claim wasn’t exactly correct, not hundred percent at least. Could he just say fuck it and do whatever he wanted to do with himself? Yeah, probably. Choosing rebellion though, there was no doubt he would have to opt out of the glorious privilege he was rather fond of, so used to having everything handed to him on a silver platter, sometimes before he ever thought about it. Being a nineteen-year-old with not a smidge of work experience… let’s just say that he could only see himself struggling to make ends meet if he even pictured himself doing anything but business school, and that was… a no-no.

“What does it take to be an astronaut?” Harry inquired, eyes stuck to the beams supporting the roof of the barn they were going to sleep in, one more of the brunette’s truly genius ideas. “I bet you could still pull it off.”

“Years of school, hundreds of thousands and balls to stand up to your overbearing father, I would assume.” The boy shrugged, obviously not taking his childhood dream for a viable alternative to being a bitter, depressed businessman he was bound to become sooner or later.

The brunette turned onto his side, supporting his head on a propped up elbow as he scrutinised his pal’s face, blue eyes determined not to look to the side, following the intricate construction holding the roof in place. “I don’t buy it.” The man finally broke the silence, a sly smirk on his lips when Lou, more or less intentionally, let his eyes dart to his face. “I don’t know you all that long, but not once have you been that obeying, pliant boy you’re painting yourself as.”

“Why do you think I am here?” The blue of the guest’s eyes disappeared for a second as he rolled them till the whites were visible. “I’m having none of people trying to criticise my life choices. Not you, at least.” Something almost offensive in his tone, the slightest twitch of the corners of his lips getting rid of that in no time.

“Why?”

“I’m not taking advice from people who are wasting their potential like you are.” It… wasn’t something that he planned to say, not a topic he intended to nudge either. Once again, it just happened organically, and he was sort of regretting ever answering the question that led them there, didn’t matter that silence was the most plausible alternative.

The remark solidified the man’s expression, the last remnant of amusement at the thought of astronaut Louis gone on an instant when they somehow landed on a matter he wasn’t keen on discussing. “What potential?” He mocked, eyes still fixed on the younger guy’s face. This time his gaze was almost uncomfortable with the irresistible feeling that these green eyes could pierce through the boy and unravel everything he was ever hiding, not a single thing left secret.

Lost for words, Louis found himself getting impatient with the gears in his head that wouldn’t spin fast enough. He should’ve known better than to say these words when he wasn’t able to support his claim. All he found himself doing, was huffing a breath that clearly gave away his inability to get his point across. “Forget it, I’m… I can’t tell you all that.” His head shook frantically when he realised that it wasn’t the lack of words that was stopping him from saying anything, but what these words were and how pathetic they would’ve made him look in the farmer’s eyes.

“Why? I can take whatever it is.” In the beautifully sculpted features of his, there was a solid dose of trepidation, the man clearly expecting to hear something unpleasant, being checked by the boy who from the start had an undisguised, negative outlook on the matter of Harry, despite all logic, staying in the small town he grew up in. “Just close your eyes and pretend I’m not here.”

Louis almost scoffed at the idea. Really, how was he supposed to pretend that Harry was not there, where he was so close, his breaths were pooling on his face? He still complied though, slowly letting his eyelids fall closed, trying to tie the illusion with a deep breath or two, nothing helping. “This is so dumb.” Nervous laughter escaped his clenched throat. “I can’t, no way.” The theatrics of that moment almost made him roll to the side, just a few feet it would take him to fall off the cliff of the hay construction they had built not so long ago and, hopefully, lose his life in the process. His silhouette stayed put though, the slightest of smirks creeping onto his lips when he realised that his companion was holding his breath to complete the scene. “It’s just that… oh god, I hate this.” Another word of discouragement, eyes rolling underneath the eyelids. “I don’t know, you’ll probably think I’m a creep or something, thinking far too much about this, but God knows I have nothing better to do, so remember that.” The quick disclaimer hasn’t really worked with the whole being alone masquerade but eh, whatever. “I just think that you’re so smart and hardworking that you’re wasting away here. At first I thought it was a façade, but you’re a genuinely good person, and actually cool at that. I could’ve used somebody like you growing up, maybe I wouldn’t end up so fucked up, but I didn’t and that’s fine. Sorry, I digress. Long story short, it’s really so idiotic that you think you don’t deserve anything better than kissing all these old ladies’ asses on the daily and slaving away for probably less money than you could earn at any job. That’s all.” His last words mumbled, the teen honestly shocked that he managed to get through all of that. Maybe Harry’s way was smarter than he gave it credit for.

Panicked by the lack of any reaction from the other side of this conversation, he squeezed his eyes closed even tighter, scared to open them and find… he didn’t know what, but it surely wasn’t anything positive, right?

“Yikes.” Here it was, an introduction to Harry calling his younger friend a psycho and cutting any personal ties just because Louis thought far too much about the farmer’s situation and didn’t have a filter. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

Yeah, yeah. Fuck you very much, it’s not like the boy was the one pushing himself into that foolish outburst. “Same.” Was all he could get himself to say, already preoccupied with beating himself over the idiotic confession. “You’re the one who made me say all that though.” In last effort to rid of at least some of the humiliation, Louis reminded his companion that part of the blame was on him.

Whatever, the ship has sailed, he could handle a few weeks of awkwardness, couldn’t he? Maybe for a change, he’ll start following Frank around? The cold shiver that ran down his spine at the thought of that being the case told everything about his attitude towards that idea. Or Ada, he could get himself a housewife course from her, yeah? Anything but… Harry, who once again was so distressingly quiet it played with the boy’s psyche. At least there was a big chance he wouldn’t have to sleep in a fucking barn if the awkwardness grows to enough of a size to push them from each other.

“I can’t deny that it makes all of it a bit weird now.” Good observation, Sherlock.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t…”

Confusion spilt over Tomlinson’s body along with a few other things when he was interrupted mid-sentence. No, it was not Harry suddenly going into a proper logorrhea when he wasn’t very keen on speaking just a second ago.

Louis didn’t know how he missed the shift of the man’s body, but that must’ve happened amid his mild panic attach as now, he was pretty fucking sure he had somebody’s lips pressing right on his, at least he hoped these were lips, and the only pair that wasn’t his own belonged to the brunette.

Yeah, these were lips. Harry’s lips. A protruding bump where the bottom one split and already started healing was the one thing the boy needed to identify the slightly rough pillows kissing him.

Real Harry was far gentler than the one Tomlinson found himself imagining from time to time, though that rough approach might have been just slightly influenced by how immorally horny the boy was during most of these occasions, not a person he’d ever taken accountability for.

There was nothing tough with how the man’s lips rubbed against Louis’, who still tried to wrap his head around what was happening, the eyelids covering his eyes robbing him of the few seconds he would’ve gotten to prepare for what was happening at the moment if he kept his eyes opened. Being pretty much accustomed to the idea of their friendship being ruined, the kiss was the last thing he would’ve expected.

But there they were, Lou coming alive after the shocked stillness that couldn’t have done any favours to the image of him in Styles’ eyes. At least he wasn’t seen as a child anymore… he fucking hoped he wasn’t.

Relishing in the feeling of fingertips ever so slightly grazing the side of his jaw, holding his head pivoted to make their position a bit less awkward from where it was already inconvenient, Louis started giving back the kisses, little pecks more like, the older guy cautious not to come too hard onto the boy since the reaction he was going to get wasn’t exactly obvious to him.

Under his lips, Tomlinson could feel the man next to him smiling, infecting him with that expression until they couldn’t do both things at once anymore. So, they pulled away from each other. The smile was still bending his lips as he laid back, his head snapping where he laid it before. He almost slapped himself for how stupidly out of it he was, eyes remaining closed because he kind of forgot to open them, still going through the thing that was so far from what he expected to get from that stupid confession.

“You really like compliments, don’t you?” The teen found himself scoffing in a surprising rush of wit.

He needed a minute, or ten really. First of all… what the fuck? Second… what the actual fuck. And the third… he should probably consider checking his gaydar in for maintenance because that revelation completely went over his head. Not three days ago he was suspecting his pal of fooling around with a married school friend, now he was a bit overwhelmed after being kissed by this very man.

What did that mean, though? Of course, he knew how pathetic he was, overthinking something that really could’ve been a sort of thank you for that whole rant Louis had gone on, a moment of weakness or ten other things that meant little to nothing at all.

Striving to keep that very last portion of dignity to himself so he could more than likely lose it quite soon, the boy, nonchalantly rolled onto his stomach, going back to the puzzle game he was playing on Harry’s phone just a few minutes ago like nothing happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to hoping you've enjoyed the chapter bc I might have neglected my school work to proof read this.  
>  Leave a comment, kudos or not. See you Friday :)


	7. Chapter 7

“Fuck!” Louis cursed after tripping on a protruding root of whichever three that decided to sabotage him in this already vulnerable position.

“Can you still see me?” Harry repeated the question that’s been the majority of his vocabulary ever since they’ve entered the forest.

Still mildly irritated with his misfortune, the teen mumbled some more profanity under his nose, maybe some of it directed at Harry who hasn’t exactly deserved it, but oh well, logical thinking often suffered when he got emotional. “Yep.” He popped the p, even if he was lying. Of course, he hasn’t fucking checked if he could see him between the trees, but if he could hear him, it meant pretty much the same.

His anger was rather unjustified when you consider that he was the one who proposed having a hike in the woods. In his imagination, he saw deer, moss, lush trees and silence he came to miss since as secluded as the farm was, the dogs never let it be quiet for too long. To be fair, his expectations were met, but there was this whole unforeseen side with the spiders, death traps and altogether sliminess of the entire endeavour he most definitely did not enjoy as much as the fresh air and this temporary solitude, a bit deceptive with Harry being quite near and always ready to remind him that he is right there, but it was still the furthest away from each other they’ve been in… a while.

He wasn’t complaining about it though, less since they’ve kissed and even if the other guy hasn’t exactly expressed any interest in doing that again… Louis sure as hell wouldn’t mind another one of these.

Maybe a tinge of disappointment struck him when he woke up with Harry as far away from him as their improvised mattress possibly allowed. If this was a rom-com, they would’ve woken up cuddled up with each other as it always seemed to happen when the characters were forced to share a bed. But they have not, and it was fine. The discontentment with their morning situation wasn’t justified with any serious, undying feelings he had towards the guy who proved himself to be far more respectful of Lou’s personal space than he usually came off as.

Well, he liked Harry, of course, he has. If that wasn’t a thing, he wouldn’t put up with the majority of the things the brunette came up with for them to do, but it’s not like he was in love with him or whatever, their relationship still very surficial and not necessarily very deep. With their acquaintance… friendship maybe, being based on random facts they have acquired about each other and this mostly physical crush he had on the guy, he wasn’t particularly heartbroken about being allowed his space.

His back was still killing him after the night he spent on the whole stack of hay, no amount of stretching his friend put him through has remedied the situation, and it wasn’t surprising at all, he was probably going to be miserable for the remainder of his vacation. There was one silver lining to the situation. With the ache pretty much etched into the flesh of his brain for the rest of his life, he was never going to complain about any substandard mattress he’ll ever encounter.

“Is this good?” He asked, nodding his head at a mushroom he found partially buried in thick moss, plump and large, bigger than any of the ones Harry found during their walk.

“Yeah…” The man shrugged his shoulders, observing how his friend evaluated in his head whether it was worth it to risk breaking his back for the thing. “If you want to die.”

That information swept away the smug smirk right off Lou’s face. “Perfect then.” For that bit, Lou risked the state of his skeleton and bent in half as if he wanted to pick the mushroom in question up. He hasn’t really touched it though, cautious due to being uneducated about the toxin’s ability to absorb through his skin.

Harry, already used to that dark sense of humour of his pal’s, all too aware that no matter his complaining the jokes weren’t going to stop, only rolled his eyes, grazing them over the lush foliage over their heads. “It’s too dry for picking anyway.” Defeated, he looked at the few specimens he held in the palm of his hand, not a particularly impressive yield at all.

“I think it’s going to rain today.” The younger one remarked, not having much evidence for that claim. “Wanna bet?” He offered in order to bring some thrill into his life.

With brief pensiveness on his face, Harry nodded, the movement caught in the teen’s peripheral vision. “Sure.” His eyebrows drew together. “What for?”

Yeah… that was an obstacle. “I don’t know.” He admitted, scraping moss off a fallen tree trunk they took a little stop at.

“Whichever gets it right…” The man gave himself a second for thinking. “Gets extra two hours in bed whenever they choose to use them.”

The peaceful serenity of the forest was the only thing stopping him from exclaiming. “Deal. God, yes.” Lou’s enthusiasm perhaps a bit exaggerated considering that Styles was rather lenient on him when it came to waking up and that kind of unpleasant stuff. “When is the deadline?”

“Midnight?”

“Fine.” There was the tiniest bit of reluctance in his words, coming straight from the big gash in his chances of winning that this early deadline caused.

“I think we might go for a swim when I feel less like I’m going to give birth.” Harry declared, slouched in a chair of a garden set furnishing his mother’s back garden, hands covering the majority of his belly.

Yeah, yeah. It was poking out the tiniest bit, but the bulge was so insignificant in comparison with the one Louis was sporting, it almost made the boy scoff out loud, the only thing stopping him were the manners he broke out for the first time that day for Anne to witness.

He wasn’t ready to have late lunch at his pal’s mother, that’s kind of why he tried to make up for his shameful, straight-up dirty attire with his otherwise impeccable etiquette.

There wasn’t really a way to refuse the invitation without being rude, so he accepted. But with that, he sort of hoped they would have a stop at the farm to change and clean up a bit after the hike. Nothing like that happened though, that’s why he was there, his knees wearing very obvious residue of mud, the remainder of three million times he fell during their adventure, marks the woman kindly hasn’t even acknowledged.

At the very least, Harry’s still very obviously beaten face came to the rescue and completely took Anne’s attention away from anything else but her son’s state. Immediately, she dropped cucumbers she was peeling and rushed to her boy, sandwiching his face in between her dainty, delicate hands, assessing the damage.

It felt strange seeing somebody react to Harry’s appearance in a way Louis expected everybody to react in. When they’ve gotten downstairs the day after… it was so bizarre. With her usual motherly tenderness, Ada hasn’t given the dark maroon patches on Styles’ face a single look, almost as if it was something of Harry’s routine to come back looking like that from time to time. 

Frank teased his helper a bit, but nothing in terms of a normal reaction Louis would’ve expected from people Harry claimed to be close with, though it sure as fuck didn’t look like he was that morning. 

For a minute or two, he even thought that perhaps it was him who was overreacting, being hysteric since tending to his friends’ wounds wasn’t exactly something that he’s done often. Only when he saw Anne’s reaction, justifiably distraught about her child’s wellbeing, he stopped feeling like he was the crazy one, not Harry’s employers.

“Yeah, we could use some exercise to burn off all these potatoes.” The teen snapped into the conversation and chuckled, his smile deepening at Anne’s expression when she grinned, reaction to being once more reminded of two guys demolishing everything she prepared for their dinner, even if she cooked enough for a group twice as big as theirs.

You could really see she loved that, feeding people. I wasn’t only feeding, that would be weird, wouldn’t it? The second her motherly outburst about her son’s state ended, the woman immediately spotted a tear near the neckline of Lou’s t-shirt and proposed to quickly patch it up for him. It was the tiniest thing, one he hasn’t even noticed, a consequence of a close encounter with a stray branch he had when they were already making it out of the forest, but the offer itself made him feel so… he didn’t even know how to describe it.

Long story short, he felt so welcome in this woman’s house, it was almost embarrassing because he felt there more at home than he ever felt at his actual place and he barely knew his pal’s mum.

“I’ll borrow Frank’s mower and drop by in the evening, no use keeping the grass long when it’s burnt.” Harry, in his usual fashion, arranged more chores for himself like he had too much time on his hands. He surely did not, and yet he still burdened himself with cutting the grass that didn’t need to be trimmed in the first place.

“There’s no rush.” The woman gestured her hand dismissively, her eyes skipping from her son to his friend, back and forth. “You boys surely have better things to do.”

She was neither right nor wrong in that. As much as Harry always rushed to find something for them to do, it was always the kind of mildly entertaining stuff that they easily could’ve lived without. It was only fun because most of the things they were doing were competitive, and Styles was much more of a sore loser than he initially let it seem like he was. For some reason, irritating him was top tier entertainment to the teen.

“I’m capable of occupying myself for however long it takes, I’m not as helpless as he makes me seem. I promise.” Tomlinson chased his words with a sip of lemonade Anne served for them.

“You can tag along.” She smiled at the boy. “You know you’re always welcome here. We could gossip about this one when he’s busy. I’m certain you could tell me a thing or two.” A simple wink was enough to bend Lou’s lips upwards.

He really couldn’t say no to that, could he? Another one of these situations where it just simply did not sit well to deny, especially when the alternative was to sit alone in his room and both him and the host were aware of that.

So, he set on vagueness, not yet positive how sociable he was going to feel in the evening. “I’ll see if I can fit you in my incredibly tight schedule.” The smile he got in return was enough for him to know that his plans for later were.

“A few more of these and you’ll be ready for the Olympics.” The brunette man remarked from a few feet away from the boy who was too focused on swimming, or… trying to, to decide whether there was any mocking in Styles’ words.

Honestly, he couldn’t give any less fucks if he tried. Who cares how stupid he looked like? He was doing better than he ever thought he would be able to, actually moving even if his pace was a small fraction of the speed his instructor reached, and the teen was yet to see Harry perform something more hardcore than his usual leisurely strokes.

The water was a nice relief from the heat of the evening, still on the verge of being unbearable despite easing up a bit on the mortals. At least they could go swimming after rushing through their chores, Frank not taking into consideration that Louis, after a bit of training, would be able to actually help and significantly increase the amount of free time the proper stable boy had on his hands. It was fine, it’s not like he complained about chores deficiency, but maybe he was a bit salty about being considered as useless as he could only imagine he was seen as.

Even the older guy was sometimes clueless as to what to do with the unforeseen surplus of time, hence the struggles he faced in finding something for them to do. Louis wasn’t certain in this claim, but he suspected that the tutoring the man took upon himself was only a means to get rid of boredom rather than a thing he actually felt like doing.

“I hope these people have a phone to call an ambulance because I sure don’t!” The teen exclaimed as he observed his friend running to the very shore of the lake they were frequenting lately, to a tree growing there, one that wasn’t really different from the handful of others surrounding it apart from a rope swinging off one of the branches, a subject of another suicide joke Louis made, a joke that went south with Harry getting sudden thrill for adrenaline, abandoning post and rushing towards the object in question.

Of course, Styles didn’t give a single fuck about the threat of dying his friend had highlighted, far more rational in measuring the actual danger of the endeavour than the teen who was prone to overreacting.

No hesitation in his movements, the farmer grabbed onto the improvised swing, pushed himself off with a bare foot and went flying. With a loud howl, he summoned the attention of every single person enjoying their time by the lake, cannonballing into the murky water, going under for so long, his companion started to get worried, but not quite enough for the boy to begin panicking. Harry’s head broke the surface of water eventually, which was a cue for Lou to start breathing again, not that he even noticed he was holding his breath in the first place.

“Your turn.” Harry chuckled, still three more strokes of his hands before he stood up next to his pal, the water coming up to different points in their midsections.

“Sure thing.” Lou scoffed, droplets of water splashing on him when the taller guy fell back into the water.

Only when the tip of the finger he was pointing at his apprentice lightly grazed the bare skin of the boy’s chest, Harry came to realise that perhaps they were a bit too close for comfort, at least with other people around. That’s what prompted him to fall onto his back, making a circle around the teen before he stood up just a step or two away from where he previously stood.

“Come on, it’s fun!” Aware that insisting wasn’t going to get him anywhere, not with Louis at least, he still went for it.

“No.” The boy sounded the vowel with all his might, fingers raking through the pleasurably warm top layer of water. Apart from the disturbances in the surface or the lake caused by his movement, he noticed small circles peppering it as far as he could see. “I think I just won something.” A wide grin deformed his face when he realised he just acquired a coupon for two additional hours of sleep, redeemable whenever the hell he felt like it.

With pressed lips, Harry shoved his hands into the pockets his swimming trunks, for whatever reason, had. “Yeah.” He acknowledged defeat in a sigh. “How’d you know?”

The grin transformed in a smug smirk when he recalled having a peek at forecasts on Harry’s phone just the evening prior. Unwilling to lose the freshly acquired prize, not sure whether he wasn’t technically cheating, he decided not to come clean about that little detail. “Felt it in my bones.” His shoulders jumped in a shrug, not one his pal could’ve seen as he was far more efficient in getting through the water than the shorter guy was.

“Do they have hot Cheetos here?” Louis asked with head peeking out of the car through the opened window, measuring with his gaze a front of a small grocery store they’ve just now parked outside.

Harry, already unbuckled, brushed separated fingers through his still wet hair, assessing the situation in the rearview mirror he pivoted in his direction. “They might. I’m not sure.” In one swift motion, the man leaned over Lou’s lap, accessing the glove box without a tinge of hesitancy in the movement. “You’re going?”

Slouched in the seat of Harry’s truck, Louis pondered whether it was worth it. While the actual walk from the car to the store wasn’t a big deal at all, even with the slight unpleasant tingle in his shins from the swimming, he looked far from presentable, so he wasn’t going to hurt other people by presenting himself to them in such state. 

“Not looking like that, no.” He scoffed, getting only a nod in response and there, Harry was gone with a wallet and a linen bag in his hand.

The man hasn’t even gotten past the door and Louis could already hear him getting into small talk with somebody. “Fuck no.” The boy cursed under his nose, already preparing himself for the eternity he was bound to spend in the car.

So he did what probably nobody else would do. With legs bent in his knees, bare feet pressed to the very edge of the seat on the driver’s side, he laid down and let his eyes fall closed. The tapping of the teardrops on the roof of the truck was doing wonders to distract him from the faintest murmur of Harry’s voice that filtered into the cabin he was confined in, to the dangerous extent when he caught himself dozing off on one instance when the song on the radio changed into some ballad rather than generic pop tracks that preceded it.

“Comfortable much?” Harry’s voice took him by surprise, immediately snapping him out of the slumber he involuntarily slipped into after the mistake he made of not switching the station when he took a brief snooze for the first time.

With just a bit of grunting, the boy slid himself off Styles’ part of the seat, the newly returned owner of the vehicle sliding into it immediately, tossing a wet bag of whatever it was that he picked up by Lou’s feet.

“Took you long enough.” The grumpy teen threw when the car was already moving, just a bit of bitterness woven between the grogginess of his voice. “Had a nice chat, have you?”

The driver either hasn’t picked up on the tinge of hostility or decided to look past it, just like he often used to, being the non-confrontational type of person he just, so effortlessly was. “I had to make up for you not being awfully talkative today.”

“I’m a bit tired.” Louis, in an unforeseen rush of good manners leftover from the visit at Anne’s, hid the yawn his confession summoned. “Haven’t slept all that well which, I’m well aware, is absolutely shocking.”

“In my defence, you seemed to be having nightmares.”

“I have?” The boy asked with his eyebrows furrowed. He hasn’t remembered dreaming about anything at all, let alone having actual nightmares influencing the overall quality of his already compromised slumber.

Harry, with his eyes stuck to the stretch of road in front of his truck, nodded his head in confirmation. “Either that or you’re incredibly restless in your sleep, though I don’t think you are.”

Now Louis was intrigued. The uncalled for assumption, not a thing he would’ve expected. And fair, Styles was right, he usually woke up in the same position he fell asleep in, or at least something close to it, but he could hardly see a reason why his pal would be so confident in that claim.

“How’d you know?” He found himself scoffing as they came to a turn, leaving a nearby town behind. “You’re peeping on me or something?” Derision loud and clear in his tone, just to make sure Harry doesn’t take it as a serious accusation or anything like that.

“Our rooms used to be a master back in the day.” The man explained, and Lou wasn’t sure how did that revelation relate to his humorous allegation. “The wall between us might as well not exist when it comes to sound.”

“So you are creeping on me.” The teen picked up on that, shaking his head in faux disbelief.

Styles smirked, neither denying nor admitting the charge he was facing, eyes focused on the road, head ever so slightly nodding to the rhythm of one of these songs that everybody knew but barely anybody could name. 

Seeing that this chat was going nowhere, already deemed over by the second participator, Tomlinson let his head fall to the side, propping it on the lower edge of the rolled-down window, letting wind ruffle his hair in all directions, rain dampening the strands that hadn’t yet even had a chance to fully dry after swimming.

“I’m not sleeping very well lately, that’s all.” Harry admitted as if he felt like he needed to explain himself. “You seem to be a complete opposite so at least that’s good.”

A rush of guilt took a hit on Lou’s psyche when he realised that perhaps he had his doing in the farmer’s troubles with sleeping. Sure, it’s not like he cared all that much, but maybe he did, just a little? Not only he pretty much forced the brunette into trading beds with him, but his careless approach to chores they were supposed to be sharing, laid most of the work onto Harry’s shoulders, that one already enough of a reason why the farmer should’ve been getting better quality sleep than the teen who had a far less energy-demanding lifestyle.

“Is it the bed?” He asked the question, even if he meant to keep that presumption to himself.

The vigorous shaking of the brunette, tangled locks atop Harry’s head, answered the question before he had a chance to voice anything. “I don’t know what it is, it’s not the bed though. I’m not nearly as big of a diva about my sleeping situation as you are.”

“Good. The diva wasn’t very keen on switching back.”

Stumbling a bit down the hill they were now descending after getting horses out on the paddock, Louis grazed his eyes over the stretch of burnt grass around them, its lighter colour distinguishable in the darkness enlightened only by the sliver of a moon that did a shitty job of providing any illumination.

Maybe they lost track of time when they sat in the living room, each on their separate literary endeavour yet still very much together as Louis’ feet were thrown over Harry’s as the teen laid, back pressed to the floor near the couch Styles occupied. They’ve only realised how late it was when the letters of the stanzas of a poetry book Lou was getting through stopped appearing before his eyes, bleeding into the blackness of the night undisturbed by a single lightbulb, all of them stayed cold throughout the evening, engulfing them in darkness responsible for the bit of a strain their eyes were put through during that reading session.

The living room was far from the usual place they could’ve been found at, normally occupied by Ada and her knitting or Frank and his… bullshit, Louis still was yet to discover what it was that the man took an interest in other than getting drunk and being extremely offensive without ever seeming like he was trying to, his true colours shining through without much thought.

It must’ve been around eleven when they finished up with the work for the day, now making their way back to the house. From what Lou knew, they were supposed to watch a movie, another position of Harry’s surprisingly extensive collection of old horror movies that haven’t really stood the test of time.

The plan hasn’t seemed to have changed, at least there was no indication that it somehow has. Lou’s supposition was only confirmed when, after they’ve gotten back into the bizarrely silent farmhouse, Harry ran up the stairs only to come back with his laptop that slightly outdated, seemed like it was barely picked up from the store with its pristine exterior that only gave away that Styles took good care of his possessions. That was another of those virtues that they simply did not share, something Tomlinson couldn’t pride himself in, unfortunately, the number of phone screen replacements he went through in the span of the last three years, not something he could even count on fingers of both his palms.

It wasn’t all that long ago when he was informed that Frank and Ada were not going to be home for two nights, apparently the boy not important enough to be let in on things like that without explicitly asking. To be fair, it was a bit of a misunderstanding, the one where the matron of the house assumed Harry will tell his pal. Harry, on the other hand, was positive that Louis heard about the funeral the pair went away to attend, from Ada, with whom he hasn’t necessarily talked much, but still remained friendly in that non-demanding small talk sort of way.

Temporarily being the kings of the house, the two of them had no objections to the idea of popping corn at midnight, something they wouldn’t dare to do with other people around. So, with a pan of kernels on the stove, the two of them stood with their bums pressed to the edge of the countertop, measuring each other with careful gazes from opposite sides of the kitchen, Harry by the stove since both of them agreed that his chances of making popcorn successfully were about three hundred times better than Lou’s, who, three out of four times, managed to burn the microwave kind, not to mention what Harry was currently doing.

“We can call it a night if you’re tired.” Styles commented on the yawn that stretched Tomlinson’s lips just a second prior, closing his own around the rim of a bottle he held in his hand. He took another modest swig of Budweiser, a six-pack of which he picked up from the grocery store he wandered into a few hours ago. His face scrunched at the bitterness spilling over his tongue, that shock to his tastebuds enough to halt the foot he was occupying with following the lines between the tiles in the kitchen.

“No.” Louis only answered, not necessarily ecstatic about the Poltergeist séance they had planned for five minutes ago, but not willing to go to sleep just yet.

As much as he would have never seen that coming, he genuinely enjoyed spending time with Harry. If he liked their work-filled days already, the evenings were even better, the two of them fatigued to the point where they were mostly just speaking out of their assess, not exactly paying attention whether their words were even distinguishable from the clusters of sleepy grumbles they let out by the end of their hangout sessions.

That unforeseen sympathy towards the guy he was sort of forced to spend time with, not that he complained, was a reason why he was rarely the one guilty of calling quits on their late-night endeavours that varied from listening to music, through playing cards and reading to, more recently, watching terribly outdated movies together.

It wasn’t even necessary for them to talk, though it was a pleasant change from their silent company-keeping when they ventured into conversations more meaningful than Lou’s bashing of ancient special effects or subpar acting that was a recurring theme in the movies they watched together.

Scratching a persistent itch on the side of his jaw, just below his left ear, Louis kept a focused gaze on the enticingly misty bottle Harry held nonchalantly by the neck with his fingers only. “There’s Capri Sun in the fridge if you’re so parched.” Harry commented on the longing looks the teen was giving his beverage, one he was technically not supposed to indulge in for at least seventeen more months.

Yeah, maybe he was counting. Not that his access to alcohol was restricted to the point where he would have to do that, none of that. He had this vision of his twenty-first birthday being a sort of threshold he had to step over to finally be considered an actual adult that he was for more than a year now, though that’s not how he was seen by most people just yet. And of course, he knew how delusional it was of him to consider his twenty-first birthday some kind of transformation, but a boy can dream, yeah? At the end of the day, it’s him who will end up disappointed so what’s the harm with that?

His lip quivered slightly, exposing his teeth as if he was getting ready to attack the man for that harmless joke, the smug smirk that played on Harry’s lips not making the remark any more palatable.

With a deep sigh, only that planned in reaction to the humorous comment on his lingering gaze, he found himself quite surprised at the very explicit middle finger he ended up, mostly on a whim, showing his friend. A devilishly sweet grin peeked from behind the finger, a display perfectly conveying what the boy thought about Harry’s proposition.

“Jesus, fuck!” Hand grasping on his chest, Louis gave a side-eye to the pot that startled the shit out of him with the first popping kernel that hit the lid. “Wait for us to get murdered now. Full opening scene of Scream style.” He foreshadowed their premature, violent demise, involuntarily glancing at the door leading to the back porch, one that he knew for a fact was not locked, because that’s how Frank usually got into the house, drunk to the point where he hasn’t necessarily cared to lock them. “What’s your favourite horror movie? Uuh.” A wink was shot at Harry, jazz hands he was doing for whatever reason coming to a halt.

“Nobody died here in sketchy circumstances since… late seventies I think.” Styles drew his eyebrows together, very visibly double-checking the number he just gave as if it even mattered in their conversation. “I could bet serious money that somebody was murdered this week like a block from where you live.”

“What serious money are we talking about?” The gambler in Louis made his cameo, eyes squinting in interest. Of course, Harry knew that his definition of serious money was nowhere near Lou’s, that’s why he stayed quiet, rubbing the back of his neck to relieve a bit of an ache that settled there after sleeping in the barn. “What do you mean sketchy circumstances?”

“Drunk idiots playing with a loaded shotgun.” A shrug of the brunette’s shoulders hasn’t matched the gruesome occurrence in the slightest, a cold shiver running down Lou’s spine at this flippancy.

Seeing this as a perfect opportunity to inquire about something that he was wondering about for quite a while now, Louis hid his unoccupied hands in deep pockets of his shorts, looking out of the window over his shoulders to seem less interested than he actually was. “Does everybody have a gun around here?” Yeah, that was a nice segue to what his question actually sounded like.

“A lot of dudes around here have a piece or a few if they’re particularly passionate.” The man answered, his voice only partially blocked by the door to the cabinet he opened to retrieve a jar of what Louis knew was salt, tossing a generous heap into their popcorn. “Yes, Frank too. You should’ve just asked if you were curious.” His teeth shone in a smile that lasted a split second as he tossed the popcorn in an oversized bowl, covering it evenly with butter and salt. “I’m not telling you where though, I’ve been getting on your nerves far too much to hand you that information.”

With a fistful of popcorn stifling whatever the grumbles Harry released were supposed to be, the two of them made it out of the kitchen, Louis making a quick trip around the table to turn the lock that, exactly how he suspected, hasn’t protected them from shit.

A loud thud vibrated through the walls of the living room when the boy threw himself onto the couch they’ve set a camp on. A pained groan made it out of his throat in reaction to the blow his pelvic bone suffered from whatever the fuck the furniture was made of, obviously not sufficient amount of padding but that’s as far as Lou’s knowledge went. “Do you have one?” That still fresh curiosity that took over when the first inquiry was met with an answer pushed out another question when the brunette was busy with setting up their séance.

A quick, confused look was thrown at Louis, slouched into flat cushions of the couch before Harry realised what this whole thing was about. “Technically I own one, yes.” Something unidentified twitched in his features for less than a second. “It was my father’s and it was sort of… passed onto me, I guess? I left it at my mom’s. Self-defence, you never know.”

“She can… use a gun?” Somehow… this was all Louis gathered from his pal’s words. Anne, frail and delicate like a daisy, using a weapon was the last thing the teen would’ve imagined.

“I gave her a basic tutorial.” Harry shrugged with a smirk elicited by a memory of the day he taught his mother to shoot. “Hold your horses, it’s merely a Peacemaker.” He explained in a scoff, getting right back into the bowl of popcorn that they were already halfway through even if the movie hasn’t even started properly. In Lou’s expression, he could see that the name of the revolver hasn’t necessarily told him anything about its size, so, he chose to elaborate. “A small thing really, enough to scare whoever it’s used against.”

“Okay.” Louis, unable to find a way he could stretch this conversation, hung his eyes on the credits flashing at the very beginning of the movie, legs curled to his chest as he tried to keep himself level, very apparently more tired than he initially assumed he was. “Is your dad, um… gone?”

Tomlinson wasn’t sure where this directness came from. Not once, not twice, he asked himself that question in his head, but never before he felt daring enough to actually ask, which was quite stupid because he never really was the timid child he was now making himself look like.

A deep groove settled in between Harry’s dark eyebrows, deep enough to be noticeable looking at his profile only, his expression solidifying at the mention of a father he was bound to have, yet his story was enveloped in that layer of secrecy that has been there from the start. “Gone as in… dead?” The smirk that bent his lips was very out of place with the stillness of his whole silhouette, more fitting when the man finally relaxed, slouching back into the painfully patterned couch that housed them. “No. He might as well be though.”

It was really quite funny how in these few seconds it took to get that confession out of his friend, Louis felt like they’ve gotten closer than they managed to in almost two weeks they’ve known each other. Nothing bringing people together like a shared struggle, huh?

Now that he thought about it, shyly trying to avoid Styles’ inquisitive gaze as he took a tour over the clusterfuck of clutter on the shelves in the living room he was somewhat accustomed with, he wouldn’t accuse Harry of having daddy issues. He thought he had at least some authority to say that, being the literal poster child for that particular psychological disorder.

The movie might as well not exist to the boy, who was everything but interested in the plot of a wonder of 1980’s cinematography. Not even pretending otherwise, he turned, letting himself be swallowed by the very corner of the couch as he stuck his curious eyes to the side of his pal’s face. “How come?” In a surprising rush of confidence, Louis dug deeper into the matter.

The farmer’s jaws tightened at that, quite evidently showing his attitude towards the conversation that neither really expected forming in between making popcorn and watching a movie together. Determined as always, he prevailed against the unexplainable ire that started burning somewhere deep in his gut, the irritation so widespread, he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact source of it. “As much as I can see you envying my situation, I don’t really know my father all that much.” The brief gritting of his teeth the only indication that he wasn’t yet completely back to his usual, cheery approach. “He took off somewhere around the time when I started retaining information, so all I remember is him being a dick to my mom, which I don’t think is a best fundament to our relationship.”

“Oh, that’s fair.” The teen nodded, confused about this timidness that overtook him the second when he dared to nudge the topic he wanted to inquire about for what it felt like ages. “Completely fair.” His words a mere mumble against the knee he had his lips pressed to.

“Some people aren’t fit to be parents, as simple as that.” That freshly returned peacefulness came through in a shrug that concluded the truth about life that Lou, obviously, knew already from his own experience.

“I’m sorry that…” He froze, not knowing what exactly he wanted to apologise for. He wasn’t sorry for inquiring; that he was certain. Sure, perhaps he was a bit straight-forward with his approach, evidently avalanching his friend in heavy stuff he hasn’t pondered over for a while now, but he was glad to be let in on that secret, even if it wasn’t something tremendous in the forming of their friendship. Or maybe it was, he was too tired to even think about the repercussions of this chat.

Perhaps he was just sorry that this happened to Styles. Yes, this must’ve been it. Knowing all too well of how it was being raised without a parent, two more like but this was not about him for once, he just sort of wanted to give the brunette a little hug, pat him on the back, cheer him up a bit since it’s always been opposite. The usual cheerer seemed to be needing some of his own medicine right about now.

He stayed put though, even in his tired haze knowing better than putting himself in that awkward position that was bound to be the side effect of the embrace he felt like giving his friend.

“Don’t mention it.” A simple gesture of a big palm dismissed that apologetic look on Lou’s face. “God knows you’ve had it worse.”

And well… yeah. Even reluctant towards coming off as inconsiderate, he was aware that Harry, being raised by his mum only, was in a far better situation than growing up with a spectre of a parent he caught a glimpse of when the businessman made it from his office to the bedroom or completely out of the apartment. This struggle has not invalidated Harry’s in the slightest though, even if that seemed to be an opinion the two of them would disagree on.

Doing some basic math in his head, Louis stumbled upon a question he had no reason to hold back. Already having ruined the whole evening for his friend, he might as well satisfy his curiosity in one go rather than postpone and inevitably wreck the man’s mood on more occasions than that one. “Does your sister remember him?” His head tilted to the side, hair ruffled against the backrest of the couch while he waited for an answer.

Harry, still eerily silent, not something that was characteristic to him in any way, stopped pretending the movie was taking up even a sliver of his attention and turned his body sideways, crossing his legs in front of himself, facing the incredibly inquisitive friend he made not that long ago.

Louis drew his eyebrows together in reaction to the somewhat intimidating look he could only deem confrontational in a sense. Stuck in that silent staring contest disturbed only by suburban family’s ghosts adventures, they haven’t spoken for a beat, looking for something in each other’s faces, not finding any answers to whatever it was that they were searching for.

“She does.” He nodded his head once, breaking off that bizarrely intense eye contact, gaze skipping to the window that let him in on what was going on outside, which was nothing incredibly interesting. The rain still made a cameo here and there, falling in intense waves only to subside into a light drizzle that stretched as long as it took for another wave to approach with all its aggressive tapping on the windowsills. “Better than me anyway.” He shrugged, ungluing himself from the darkness outside. “She’s seen him not that long ago, said he wasn’t terribly interested in me so I guess that’s our relationship.”

Not yet certain what, but there was something behind the carefree act the man concluded his relationship with the other parent, that made Louis think there was something more to the story, perhaps a whole another chapter he was not authorised to access. Fair, it’s not like he told Styles everything there was to say about his life. They barely knew each other, in the grand scheme of things at least.

“Does she meet him often?” The question left his lips before he realised that this conversation came to an organic end with brunette’s last remark. Oh well… there was really nothing he could’ve done with that now, so he waited, not fully aware if he was going to get an answer, following the curve of a seam on one of the pillows with the very tip of his middle finger.

Harry’s head shook before words left his throat. “No, not at all. Our grandmother passed recently, she took upon herself sorting the whole thing out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We didn’t know her. Apparently it’s not only us our good old dad cut ties with, he told our mom that she was dead.” A bitter chuckle seeped from the very depths of his gut. “We can’t complain though, landed us with a nice little house in Florida.”

That… was a revelation. Sure, Florida was far from the perfect place to live, but it was still so much better than the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. Now that the teen thought about it, maybe Harry would fit in with his flawless ability to charm old ladies. “What are you doing here then? Pack your bags and go fight alligators or something!”

The outrage in his voice was a good relief to the otherwise serious conversation, the two of them chuckling in unison, neither able, with absolute certainty, to determine which was the one who started.

“We sold it, so I think the dream of becoming Steve Irwin’s successor is gone.”

“Here I was thinking you were bluffing with the serious money, mister big-shot.” Louis threw, trying to fully blow away that grim atmosphere he was responsible for creating. “How much are we talking about? I have seventy-eight dollars to my name right now. More or less?”

They both laughed, which was funny in itself because Tomlinson wasn’t even joking. When shit hit the fan with getting arrested and all of the stuff he wasn’t very keen on thinking about right now, he had a bit short of five hundred on his account. And with that, he was stuck when his dad, temporarily (hopefully), cut him off. So he’s been nursing that money, questioning every stick of gum or water bottle he bought, until he was left with that… which was still a lot considering how irresponsible with his funds he tended to be, the game he pre-ordered already in Wisconsin speaking volumes about that trait of his.

“A bit more than that.” The very corners of Harry’s lips quirked upwards as he answered. “I thought you were rich or something.” His tone incredibly accusatory, arms crossed on his chest while he tried to act offended by the revelation that wasn’t anything new at all. Of course, Louis wasn’t rich, being only nineteen he had hardly enough time to build a capital of his own. Living off his father’s fortune, some might say that he was wealthy after all, but now, being cut off by a parent he was so-very-dependant on, he looked far from that.

“Disappointed?” The boy bounced the ball back onto brunette’s pitch, waiting for his next move.

“Unmeasurably.” That look of betrayal was still visible in his features. “What was the point in kissing you then?” His head still shook in disbelief, not even phased at the mention of the occurrence that only happened last night, even if it felt like ages had passed.

Not dumb enough not to know that this was just a bit of harmless teasing, Louis pushed the unreasonable prickle of sadness away, reassuring himself that ‘this was a fucking joke, Tomlinson’. So he scoffed in response, rolling his eyes to the popcorn ceiling that somehow stuck around in the living room. Feeling a cramp building up in the underside of his left calf, the teen straightened his legs, taking up the space between the two men until the tips of his toes came into contact with Harry’s feet.

Undisturbed with this unexpected physical contact, Styles threw his friend a fond smile and turned his head to focus back on the movie they were supposed to be watching.

“I would kill for filet mignon right about now.” Louis practically groaned at the sight of the steak being dragged by supernatural force over the counter in Freeling’s kitchen.

“Lucky for me I kept that rifle secret then.” Styles remarked, having a quick glance at his pal who seemed to have gone off into the land of culinary dreams.

The boy shifted onto his side, curling up on the couch to uncurl immediately when he realised that the viewing angles of Harry’s laptop’s screen were not nearly good enough for him to lay comfortably. “I don’t need a gun to murder you.” He scoffed, almost offended as he neared his friend. “I could end you with these bad boys only.” His fingers wiggled for a bit before he hid them, embarrassed by his unkempt cuticles that were such a minor problem in his life, he almost slapped himself for even acknowledging them.

“Yeah, right.” The mocking in that agreement was loud and clear, Harry didn’t believe that claim. He had a reason to, of course, the outcome of their hypothetical fistfight was quite easy to predict. But then, there are more ways to end somebody’s life than straight-up physical violence.

“You’ll come to find out if you don’t give me one of these treats you’ve been teasing me with.”

Harry’s eyes followed Lou’s gaze to the bottle of beer he managed to finish quite a while ago. This only reminded him that perhaps he could use another one, just to relax a bit after that unforeseen talk about his father. “Nuh uh.” His head shook, finger threateningly waving at the teen who must’ve thought that his friend was a fool of some sort. Maybe he was in some aspects, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let a teen coerce him into giving him alcohol, even as insignificant proof as his lager was. “This is a criminal offence, Louis. I could go to jail for that.”

Slightly exasperated by the stubbornness he should probably have expected to face, Styles more than likely already seeing himself descending into hell upon giving his pal what he was asked for, Louis groaned, his stance still very dominant over the brunette who couldn’t give less fucks about being pressured like that.

“Here I go, telling everybody you gave me a beer.” Blue eyes of Tomlinson’s rolled as he folded his legs under himself, gaining an extra inch or two over Harry who stayed unbothered, seemingly busy with his movie.

Louis knew that his efforts were futile. In no world, anybody has ever considered him intimidating, at least not somebody who knew him. He still tried though, motivated by an unpleasant itch in his throat he was sure would rinse right off with the first gulp of beer it didn’t seem like he was getting.

Styles only shrugged, not even looking at the teenager to his side. “You might. How would I know what you are capable of?” There was something weird in his voice, something sounding sort of like mocking but not really.

“Exactly.” That was the whole point, wasn’t it? “So you really should just give me one before I get these bad boys involved.” The fluttering of his fingers was more than likely the least threatening gesture anybody has used in the whole history of time.

And Harry laughed, which wasn’t exactly surprising considering that this was exactly what Lou expected him to do. He chuckled too, he could not simply hold it back.

“I cannot just go against my entire moral code because you can’t take no for an answer.” His head shook frantically, the man adamant in his first decision.

“Yeah.” Louis clapped his hands, scoffing. He fell back onto his bum, as far away from his friend as he could. Maybe he was persistent, but he knew when the battle was over, and it didn’t seem like Harry was going to bend, the annoying little shit act did absolutely nothing in that regard. “Would be such a terrible tragedy to deprive a sweet little boy like me, would it?” His eyes rolled further back than he thought it was physically possible. “My innocent, virginal lips aren’t going to touch liquor on your watch, are they?”

There was a groove between Harry’s eyebrows when he turned to his pal, noticing the defeated look on the teen’s face. It was quick, and it smoothed on an instant, replaced by a mocking smile. “They are not.”

The boy wanted to punch that stupid smirk off the man’s face. Fine, getting irritated over a thing he could very much have seen coming was not the most logical thing to do, and he wasn’t irritated per se, he just really fucking didn’t like being denied things, he wasn’t used to that either.

Living with a father whose biggest objective was to live like he never had a child, he rarely had to say twice if he wanted something, old pops complying to whatever if only that kept Louis out of his life. So, with that in mind… it really wasn’t his fault that he was spoiled, was it?

Around people he strived to keep rather friendly relationships with, he tried to keep that side of him contained, and he usually did a satisfactory job at it. Not this time, though. And it was fine, Harry could expect that side of Lou to pop up from time to time, not the first time he saw that demanding side of his friend, not the last one most definitely.

It looked as though the brunette found these outbursts incredibly amusing, that idiotic smirk that glued to his face quite a giveaway of the fact. In Louis’ head, he could also see something else in Harry’s eyes. However, the presence of that very humiliating pity he thought he picked up on was debatable, it wasn’t exactly unheard of that he sometimes read into stuff far too much.

Trying to convince himself that Harry hasn’t looked down on him even if he still wasn’t completely certain that it wasn’t the case, he crossed his arms on his chest, pretending that the movie got incredibly interesting all of a sudden.

Being himself, he couldn’t really stay put for long, squirming like a hyperactive child mere two scenes later. “Should I just go to the basement and get myself some of that hooch Frank’s keeping there?” His persistence overpowered that unfounded humiliation that put him down for these few minutes he spent being unusually quiet.

Harry hasn’t seemed extremely shocked to hear the boy speak, knowing quite well how he operated by then. “Have at it. I can’t really stop you.” Tomlinson was again irritated, this time at how absolutely unbothered his superior was. “I would advise you not to though.” The way he propped his bare feet on the coffee table somehow further amplified how passive he was to the idea of his younger friend potentially losing his life in a fight with Frank’s moonshine. “From personal experience.” The tiniest twitch of the corner of his lips betrayed that faux indifference.

Invigorated, Louis was ready for the next round. “Or you could just… give me a beer, you know?” His expression borderline bored, just to convince his companion that he was serious with the plan he voiced.

He obviously wasn’t, of course, he was not. Harry didn’t know that, though; he couldn’t. From what the teen knew, his pal wasn’t aware that he was, for some rather absurd reason he made up in his head, afraid to go down to that particular basement, something in the vibe of it sending creeps up his spine.

“No.” Harry’s attitude towards that pointless conversation was visible in the fact that he hasn’t even shaken his head anymore, only rounded the vowel more diligently than it was necessary.

‘Don’t poke the bear.’ Louis tried to convince himself when, in reality, poking Harry was everything he wanted to do at that moment, see how far he could push him, see if he would snap. “Why do you have to be so annoying?” His staple whiny voice made an appearance, very purposefully trying to be as irritating as he possibly could.

A scoff broke through the audio from the film nobody was watching, Harry’s teeth showing in a smile he quickly bit down on. “No. You are being annoying.” He set the record straight for a boy who knew well enough that this was exactly the case.

“Fine.” Louis shrugged and seemingly followed through with his promise, getting up from the couch and leaving the living room with his friend still inside, clinging to that unbothered demeanour for dear life as it seemed.

He hasn’t gone to the basement, hell no. Instead, he turned to the kitchen where, not even trying to be stealthy, he opened two beers using a bottle opener magnet he swiped from the fridge. Taking a quick swig from one of the bottles in case something went wrong, the odds of which still quite high, he strode back where he left a mere minute ago, putting the untouched bottle right next to Harry’s empty one, keeping the second one for himself, convinced that he deserved it.

“Hey!” Styles snapped back when he realised what was happening, eyebrows furrowed as he threw his friend an accusatory look.

There was no talk of the boy’s alleged innocence when he was so explicitly guilty. With a smug smirk on his lips, his pose as confrontational as he could get it, he drew a long sip from the bottle, his eyes provocative as he was still curious what his pal would do.

They both knew that there was not much that could be done in that situation. Louis clearly disregarded all of Harry’s authority over him, so words would not do jack shit, just as they haven’t done anything leading up to this very situation. Could he just try to retrieve the beer out of Tomlinson’s hand? Probably, though considering the whitened knuckles of the boy’s right palm, he would have to practically pry the bottle out of his hand, making more mess in the process than it was worth it. 

So, he set on nothing. Nothing being taken quite literally in this situation. Having absolutely no power over the unruly teen, there wasn’t much in terms of punishment he could institute. With that, he decided that his silence was the most he could offer, hoping that Louis wouldn’t like him being quiet at least nearly as much as it worked the other way around. It wasn’t anything certain, Tomlinson yet to encounter silent Harry who hasn’t really made an appearance just yet, but it was Styles’ only shot, so he might as well give it a go.

It didn’t take long for Louis to realise what he has gotten himself into. First of all, as per usual, he hasn’t expected to face any consequences of his wrongdoing. Sitting in the corner of the couch, slowly sipping from the bottle, he found himself wondering what a good way out of that awkward situation was.

Knowing Harry moderately well considering the duration of their friendship, he would expect being told to sleep in the barn or even an actual spanking before silent treatment would spark as a possible penalty for something so dumb. It was a rarity for the man to be quiet, constantly babbling about the least significant things, with only exceptions being the times when they just hung around each other rather than with each other, doing their separate things together.

Louis didn’t like that, he hated that really. With every minute of the movie, he watched simply from the lack of anything else to do, he despised the silence more and more. About ten minutes in, he came to regret the endeavour that wasn’t even worth it, the beer he was nursing strangely unpleasant on his palate, the bitterness absolutely not owed to a bad batch since the beer tasted… fine, but it somehow hasn’t.

The film hasn’t even finished yet, Louis’ head propped on a flat pillow as he might have dozed off for a second or two, but Harry scrambled onto his legs and simply walked away, not a word of explanation as he took the bottles he managed to empty into the kitchen. From what Louis could hear, a bit apprehensive about going there and involving his eyes in the evaluation since he was very explicitly unwanted, the brunette rummaged through the fridge for a second or two, getting the last of his nutrition for the night. Not long after, he was already stomping his feet over the stairs, a distinct creak of his bedroom door disclosing his more than likely final destination.

Knowing better than anybody else that it was surely not the movie that kept him put in that living room, Louis slapped the laptop closed. Much quieter than Harry, he ascended to his own room, purposefully avoiding that step that would’ve sold his movements immediately if he stepped on it.

Considering shower an indispensable factor of his morning routine, he stripped to his boxers and took a dip into the bathroom he shared with the pal he must’ve seriously pissed off with his childish behaviour. After taking a quick leak, he stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth aggressively as some sort of punishment instituted on himself.

Eyes stuck on that one cracked tile to the right of the mirror, he pondered what his next move would be. It was ridiculous, really. In what world would somebody get so gravely offended over a violation quite this minor? For fuck’s sake, he got himself a beer when the law hasn’t yet deemed him worthy of one, yet Harry acted as if he spat in his face and called his mother a whore or whatever.

The bed, even three times as comfortable after the night the teen has spent in the barn, hasn’t eased his rushing thoughts a single bit. To the contrary. Harry was right, the walls really were shit when it came to muffling sound, which hasn’t helped Tomlinson when he realised that, his brain stubbornly focusing on every creak of the bedframe in the neighbouring room.

He couldn’t blame Styles for interrupting his winding down, not when he was tossing and turning like crazy himself, the tortured furniture, way past its prime, wailed under every shift of his body on the mattress. Crossing small circles with a thumb over the inside of his wrist, Lou started actually counting sheep, which only showed how absolutely desperate he was to fall asleep.

His urgency was justified with more than the unwillingness to deal with Harry’s hostility. With the clock on his nightstand long since passed two in the morning, Louis didn’t even want to think about his five am wake up call, no matter that it was sort of his new routine.

Being the literal epitome of impatience, he gave up fairly early, two forty on the clock when he dragged his exhausted body off the mattress and rubbed his eyes to give himself an extra second to decide whether he was going to make a complete fool out of himself or not.

He was, that’s what he concluded. It still hasn’t altered his plan, though. Following the well-known path to the bathroom, he hasn’t stopped there. With a gentle knock on the door to alert the man who he knew was not asleep yet, he let himself into the neighbouring room.

In the absolute darkness, he had a hard time even locating Harry’s silhouette on the bed, only the slightest amount of moonlight letting him in on the fact that Styles was, in fact, laying there.

Padding his bare feet to the furniture, Louis sat cross-legged on the floor just by the nightstand, mere inches from where Harry’s head was laying, eyes slightly parted before they snapped closed again, still enough for the teen to know that his friend was not asleep if the constant creaking of his bed that only subsided when the teen got up wasn’t enough.

“Are you mad at me?” Foolishly, he shot in the darkness, fully aware of what the answer to his question was going to be.

He still sat there in anticipation, nervously pulling on hairs sprouting at his ankles, pretending as if the pain he was causing himself was some sort of penance for the offence he still believed to be very minor. He wasn’t planning on calling his pal out on overreacting so much.

A wide yawn stretched Harry’s mouth open, a lazy blink leaving his eyes closed. “I am.” The grogginess of his voice indicated that perhaps Louis had misinterpreted his restlessness and maybe, just maybe, the man was just moving in his sleep a lot, rather than shared the struggle of falling asleep.

“Fuck.” The boy cursed under his nose, not considering that in the complete silence there was nothing to cover the profanity. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...” He sighed out, words ambiguous whether he was apologising for his earlier behaviour or cursing. It was both, if he was going to be honest.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t.” Harry croaked, pulling the cover further up his face to yawn again. “You’re going to be very tired tomorrow.” The observation devoid of any trace of humour which was… worrying.

“Yeah.” Louis agreed, knowing better than to claim otherwise. “You too though.”

A distinguishable deep chuckle vibrated through the cover, tickling the teen’s ears gloriously with a promise of normalcy. “Yeah. I already envy you that nice little pass you won today.”

Oh… that. Somehow Louis forgot about the bet, appreciating being reminded of the prize he acquired. “I completely forgot about that.” His smile hid in the darkness. “I can trade if you stop being mad at me.” Eyebrows pinched together as he offered his very convenient virtual voucher without a single doubt, it would be hard to have one considering the hastiness of his proposal.

“Is that really so important that I’m not angry with you?” Harry still laughed, a refreshing change from his initial silence.

Louis found himself ashamed to answer this question. Maybe it would be easier had he known the actual reason why it was so important that Harry wasn’t mad at him, but he didn’t, he just knew that it was far from ideal, didn’t matter the brevity of that state of things between them.

“So now you’re not speaking to me?” Styles pressured for the answer, something he has rarely done, always so respectful of his friend’s boundaries.

An exasperated sigh brushed the fingers Lou was fumbling with in his lap, his obvious nervousness was covered by night, thank god. “I don’t like you silent.” He simply answered, knowing that his rather obviously forced shrug was not seen by his companion.

“I don’t like you bratty.”

And… duh, who would? “Fair.” Lou nodded his head once, shuffling back onto his legs as every second they’ve stretched this conversation cost them a minute of sleep that, at this moment, was far more valuable than anything else. “When am I not bratty though?” He scoffed, shaking his head, mocking his staple behaviour. “You must be constantly on the verge of snapping my neck.” His laughter airy in the freshness brought by the rain that still alternated with the drizzle, with a dominance of the latter.

Trying to be as silent in his step as he possibly could, more of a habit than a concern about waking somebody up since there was not a single person sleeping in the farmhouse, Louis slipped out of his pal’s bedroom, reassured with their chat that even if took quite a chunk from their resting period, seemed to be worth it considering the relief it brought.

He let his eyes linger on Harry’s still form, the light from the bathroom showing that the man was staring back at the teen. With a sleepy “Not quite.”, as an answer, Louis closed the door and rushed into his bed, falling asleep so quick he didn’t get a chance to check whether this conversation was nearly as beneficial to the brunette’s sleep as it was to his, he could only hope that it was.


	8. Chapter 8

“Here I fucking go.” Louis spewed under his nose once he noticed the opportunity to occupy himself with something other than what he’s been doing for the past half an hour, which was absolutely nothing. Well…  _ okay _ , perhaps throwing himself out there to the rescue of an older lady, more likely than not one of Harry’s great pals, wasn’t something he would usually do, but it’s not like this was the first thing he would be doing that was so out of character for him. She was visibly struggling with getting whatever she was hoping to sell out of her car, so he might as well lend her a hand, yeah? 

Maybe he wasn’t some strongman extraordinaire or anything like that, but he  _ surely  _ had to have more power in his hands than this poor woman. So he stood up, patting off with his hands the sand that stuck to his shorts from the steps he was sitting on before. With unusual pep in his step, brought solely with the newfound sense of purpose he lacked for a while now, not that it was any sort of a problem ever before, he approached the petite woman who was left to fend for herself outside in the burning sun. “You need some help with all that?” His proposition was maybe a bit unnecessarily loud, to the point where he feared that he would startle the lady who turned her back to retrieve another crate of what turned out to be produce.

That didn’t happen, fortunately. A warm smile welcomed the teen when the redhead turned and laid a crate full of strawberries onto one of the fold-up tables she set up a few minutes before. “Nothing more interesting to do around here, huh?” She winked at the teen who immediately got round to helping, shoving the crates with maybe a bit too much force, flexing a bit perhaps. “You aren’t local, are you?” A curious expression deepened the wrinkles around her eyes as she stood to the side, observing the boy with arms locked on her chest. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” 

Louis brushed his hair back with spread fingers as with every crate he moved, it became more and more infuriating to have it in his eyes. It was his own fault really, he should’ve gotten it cut before leaving, though he was saving his money back then and stubbornly not speaking to his father, not that he could see the man dreading that treatment. Long story short, he would look idiotic if he asked pops to pay for the trim. So it’s gotten a bit long now, and there was really not much he could do with it for another few weeks, so… eh. “I’m not, no.” His head shook just barely so, the last batch put on the table that miraculously enough hasn’t collapsed under all the weight it carried. “Visiting a friend, I guess.” The lie slipped past his lips before he could even catch it.

Well…  _ to be fair _ , there was neither time nor necessity to disclose the real reason why he was there in the first place, his personal problems far from a matter he’d willingly discuss with people he only just met. But then, there  _ was  _ time, Lou not entirely certain how much of it, but it’s not like he wasn’t going to go back to boredom as soon as this encounter ended.

The woman clung to the mildly interesting news that must’ve gained quite a few points on the scale so far in the backwoods. Her visible curiosity, indicative of the questions that must’ve been forming in her head, made the boy quickly regret ever offering help in the first place. “Who is your friend?” She asked. Her disinterested demeanour, which she adapted to make it seem like she wasn’t going to talk about the strange guy in her small town to whoever she meets later that day, was very obviously fabricated.

Who was he supposed to say? Not Frank, naturally, Ada far from his friend either, even if  _ technically _ , it was them who he was ‘visiting’. “Harry.” He admitted, not entirely sure if his vagueness would make it possible for the woman to realize who he was even talking about.

Her face lit up before Louis could add his pal’s last name into the equation, apparently not something that was needed to do for the woman to know who he meant. “Harry, of course!” Her exhilaration was far from appropriate in the casualness of their chat, the revelation not nearly exciting enough for all…  _ that.  _ “Our little angel. I should’ve known.” Her hair tangled in a breeze that picked up, the wind working against the movement of her shaking head.

‘What was that supposed to mean?’ He would’ve asked if he had balls to confront the stranger about that bizarre reaction. Honestly, the woman confused the shit out of him, and suddenly, he came to miss the boredom he spent half an hour complaining on. “Yeah.” His attitude towards the lady made a cameo in a scoff he couldn’t hold back. He really tried to. 

First of all, the woman, somewhere around a foot shorter than the man she was talking about, sounded comically calling Harry  _ little _ , even if that was more a figure of speech than anything else. Then, piled onto the heap of more or less minor red flags, was this… strange, truly bizarre note that stung a bit like venom would on the teen’s palate, something so incredibly condescending in the matter she talked about Styles.

That was a new one, somebody speaking of Harry with something else than utmost adoration, not marvelling over how absolutely  _ amazing  _ the man was, sometimes to borderline nauseating effect. Sure, the woman, whatever her name was, seemingly agreed with the common opinion, but her tone indicated otherwise. 

Puzzled, slightly irritated and also on the verge of a heat stroke, his body not appreciating the scorching sun that made it up the sky after the few days off it got hidden behind the clouds, Louis decided to end it right about there. “I think I’ll go now if you don’t need help with anything else.” His lips pressed together in an expression reminiscent of a smile, so forced he almost laughed at himself. 

Fake or not, the smile was reciprocated by a woman who nodded her head, fixing a brim of the straw hat she used to shield her face from the sun. “I think I’m right about done here, thank you so much. Please, help yourself to whatever you like.” She nodded at the display on the tables.

Rounding the stand, Tomlinson grazed his eyes over the selection of products the woman must’ve grown in her own garden, the inconsistent shapes of produce practically screamed homegrown. Feeling his mouth salivating at the sight of a few baskets of very plump strawberries, he picked a single fruit from one of the packets, biting into it even before he walked away, grumbling pleasant goodbye around the fruit that drenched his tongue with sweetness.

Despite initially thinking that the stranger put some kind of spell on the strawberry, full-on evil stepmother style, he hasn’t died after eating it. To the contrary, he spent the following minutes thinking about how he could use a few more. However, his craving was nowhere near big enough to get him out of the truck he hid in, not to mention potentially involving himself in another  _ interesting  _ talk with the vendor.

Being raised in a non-religious family, he had virtually no idea how long Sunday services lasted, but the rough estimate of an hour Harry gave him when he asked, had to be almost gone now, right? But then, he needed to take into consideration a solid chunk of time for all that mingling bullshit that everybody insisted on doing so strongly, one might think that fake pleasantries were the life force behind the residents of that particular town. 

Long since tossed the phone Harry left him to occupy himself during that waiting period Louis, voluntarily mind you that, got himself into, the boy got reminded of the device, picking it up from the glove box to fill however many minutes he had left before his friend gets back from the church and they can move on with their plan for the rest of the day.

He really should’ve listened to Styles and stayed home, that mistake was on him. But then, this rather unnatural to him thoughtfulness told him to go with Harry and just wait, save the brunette these few cents he would waste on gas and literally five minutes of his life it would take to simply retrieve the teen after the mass.

Well, whatever. That ship had obviously sailed, so he stopped bitching about his questionable genius and focused on a very irritating level of Angry Birds he was stuck on for quite a while already, cursing under his nose with every time he hasn’t managed to score three stars, which, in his mind, was the only outcome he was willing to accept.

The time for giving up has come earlier than he anticipated, the opening of the door on the driver’s side startling him to the point where he almost dropped the phone to the floor. “You want to give me a heart attack?” He scolded Harry who, unbothered, slipped into his seat, starting the truck before the rest of attendees even left the fenced area around the small church. 

Louis gave the strange woman he had a chat with a last look, following Harry’s gaze as the brunette waved his hand at the redhead, and they were gone, headed in the direction opposite of where the farmhouse was. 

“Now this is absolutely atrocious.” Anne voiced exactly what Louis wanted to say ever since he first laid his eyes on the object Harry was presenting with the widest grin on his face. It was that purest excitement that sparked on the man’s mug that stopped the teen from commenting on the hidden gem of a t-shirt Louis was partially responsible for the man acquiring.

It was a joke when he showed Styles the piece of clothing when they’ve rummaged through Goodwill racks more for fun than necessity. Unmistakably hand-painted on a vintage t-shirt that initially must’ve been white, was a sexually explicit image that more likely than not, would get Harry banned from the town he was living in if only he was caught wearing it publicly.

He still bought it, not all too concerned whether the three dollars it cost him were wasted on something he was never going to wear. “Well I think it’s rather neat. Gonna wear it to church next Sunday.” The mocking smirk on his face clearly stated how serious he was with that claim, not at all.

“It might be small for you.” The mother observed, potentially already praying to the gods that this was the case and her son is going to be forced to get rid of the final piece of his quick shopping haul he just concluded.

“It’s a medium, I wear mediums… don’t I?” His eyebrows pinched together as he evaluated the piece of material, already back on the couch next to Louis who almost laughed at the fact that his friend needed his mother’s reassurance when it came to his clothing size. Maybe it wouldn’t be that weird if Harry wasn’t twenty-four years old and wasn’t otherwise, quite independent from his mom.

“You  _ wore  _ mediums.” She corrected her child, unable to hold back the relief from the fact that the top more than likely wouldn’t fit her boy. “In high school. You’ve gotten quite a bit bigger lately, you must’ve noticed.”

“You’ve just told me last time that these…” Louis nodded at the jeans Harry was still wearing. “Were not your usual size.” His insight meeting with a nod of the brunette’s head.

“You might be right.” The man agreed with his mother. “I still think it’s cool.” His broad, a fair bit broader than the t-shirt would allow, shoulders shrugged as he tossed the thing to the bag he stuffed a few other tops into.

“I’ll buy it off you if it doesn’t fit.” The boy subtracted three bucks from his total of seventy-eight dollars. No… seventy-two, the Quarter Pounder he hasn’t let his friend pay for, already shortened his budget a tiny bit that day.

Moderately tired from the rather eventful day in the city that sprouted from nothing more than their boredom, Louis sat there and blinked slowly, letting Anne’s conversation with her son fully omit his ears, which felt like they weren’t even working properly. Maybe it was his body just shutting down as he was running on fumes right about then.

He hasn’t slept all that well recently, the unfortunate streak starting the night of his and Harry’s rather idiotic misunderstanding. They were fine, all of that obviously in the past, but those two hours of sleep he got that night kicked off whatever the hell he was still going through now.

The struggle to get some rest only further questioned his decision to get up so early in the morning to wait out as his friend attended the service, rather than getting an extra hour in bed. Maybe it was this constant haziness that rendered his brain useless that led to that illogical choice. one way or another, he only dreamed of laying down for a bit as soon as they’re done with the dinner at Anne’s and are allowed to go back to their usual residence.

“The food is ready, sleepy.” Harry’s chuckle, coming seemingly from a whole other dimension, brought Tomlinson back to reality from where he must’ve slipped away during his hardest efforts to stay present, and well… awake.

The borderline annoyed groan he let out was more at the weakness that led to him falling asleep on Anne’s couch, very comfortable one at that, rather than at his pal who took upon himself the task of being the disruptor of the teen’s slumber. Harry knew how hard it was to get Lou to wake up, being the living alarm clock getting the boy out of his bed on a nearly daily basis since Louis wasn’t to be trusted with a buzzer he could so easily snooze. That was not the case with Styles, of course, there was no button on him that would make him fuck off.

“Did I really do that?” Louis finally grumbled, rubbing balled fists over the sleepy eyes that refused to stay open. If he told he was embarrassed, it would be a vast understatement. “I feel so dumb.” His whisper only barely grazed Harry’s ear as the two of them were making their way out to the backyard, where the lady of the house liked to serve meals if only the weather favoured it.

“Nothing happened, you’re fine.” Styles reassured him when they’ve crossed the threshold, three more steps and the two of them were already at the table.

The teen looked up at the hostess from where he had his eyes stuck to his feet, feeling stupid, to say the least. There was a smile on her lips as soon as their gazes met, the woman quickly going back to plating some sort of casserole she made for Sunday dinner. “I am so sorry, I really  _ tried  _ not to.” Louis apologized and seated himself on a garden chair next to Harry, who already dug into a heap of macaroni he was served.

“Nonsense.” She dismissed his sheepish attitude with a wave of her delicate hand. “Must’ve been really tired if you managed to fall with our babbling.” Her airy chuckle clashed with a melody that some bird up in the crown of the tree picked up at the same moment. “After dinner there’s a perfectly fine bed in Harry’s room if you still feel like having a nap.”

The offer met with a kind smile he graced his pal’s mother with, only this much he could do with a mouthful of iced tea waiting to be swallowed. He didn’t like the offer all that much. Well,  _ no _ … it was obviously so very kind, exactly what he would expect of their hostess, but he sort of hoped they would bounce when they’re done with food, his temporary bed the only place he felt truly comfortable sleeping in.

“I think you’ve gotten a bit carried away with all that, Anne.” Louis laughed out, looking at the plate he was now served, a whole Everest of pasta now for him to conquer. “I think I’ll explode if I eat this much.” Deeming the portion a challenge he was more than likely going to fail, he accepted it nonetheless with his first bite.

“You only say that now.” The woman sat opposite the teen, tackling her own serving which was around half of what she gave the guys to get through. “I remember how much this one ate at your age.” A smile she sported indicative of the fond memory she must’ve brought up. “Still does, look at him.”

And yeah, Harry might as well have been wielding a shovel instead of the fork he so efficiently worked through the casserole with, chasing the bites with the tea, so it got down easier, but what Harry also was, was huge, at least compared to the teen, and far more physically active than the other guy, so his portion was at least a bit more justifiable.

It wasn’t exactly natural for Styles to eat with such ferventness, none of the previous meals Louis shared with Harry was eaten with such urgency, which only made the teen wonder whether there was a reason behind it, and if there was, what would that be.

Already embarrassed himself enough, Tomlinson has not mimicked the method his friend was getting through his dinner in, matching Anne’s tempo more than her son’s in order to convince the woman that he had, at least,  _ some  _ manners after that faux pas from mere minutes ago.

“Just a bit of a snip or we’re going more adventurous than that?” The woman chuckled from behind Lou’s head, a comb led by her hand soothingly grazing the boy’s scalp. The sensation alone was almost enough to make him fall back to sleep where he already reassured everybody that he wasn’t going to.

The events that led to him on that dumb stool were a bit of a blur, distorted by the absolute sleepiness that made him agree to Anne’s proposition to cut his hair after she, for the whole duration of their dinner, observed her guest struggling with his overgrown fringe. But there he was, sitting as still as he possibly could, his spine protesting against the impeccable posture it was so unfamiliar with, aching when his back straightened.

“I think I’ll go with a trim.” He responded in a snicker, observing Harry who, in the distance, was pushing a mower through his mother’s garden, something he hasn’t gotten a chance to do earlier due to the weather. “Imagine this but three months ago.”

“Noted.” A few more strokes of the comb and she was already working her way through her guest’s hair, snipping at the very tips of it just enough to get it out of Lou’s eyes without any major transformation. “I worked in a salon before Harry was born.” She revealed as she was snipping the ends near her client’s face. “I know what I am doing, I promise.”

It worked, a whole lot. Knowing that this wasn’t some random hobby she partook in when it was needed, added to that small trace of confidence in Anne’s abilities that sparked at the sight of the scissors she broke out, a pair that looked far more legit than the kitchen shears Louis expected to see.

“Why have you stopped?” He inquired, unsure whether it wasn’t rude of him to do that. Wasn’t this what hairdressers did, though? Gossiped? The usual stylist whom he was now betraying, hasn’t done a lot of that really, rather than that just boasted about whatever exciting thing that was happening in his life around the time of their appointments, Lou’s staple hairstyle not needing enough maintenance to really delve deeper than that.

“Kids are a handful.” She explained and… duh, he felt stupid for not thinking about that. But then, her children were all grown up and yet, from what Louis has gathered, she wasn’t working as a hairdresser anymore. “Cutting hair in a small town like this isn’t exactly the most lucrative business, so I had to improvise when we’ve become a single-income household.”

The teen was impressed with her way of avoiding straight-up saying that her husband took off, at least that’s how Harry’s story told, and there was no reason why he would lie. Of course, the relationship between him and his friend’s mother being merely a casual acquaintance, he was not going to inquire about that part of her life. “You clearly still got it.” He commented, the remark based solely on the confidence with which she handled her tool, Louis yet to see whatever was happening on his head so far from any reflective surface.

“It’s a bit of a side-thing I do if somebody asks me to.” A smile bent her lips as she combed through the fringe, snipping away however much she deemed necessary. “Doesn’t really bring money, but I enjoy the company. Especially when this one is busy with his duties and doesn’t feel like hanging out with his boring, old mother.” She nodded in Harry’s direction, the man still focused on his task of trimming the grass that greened quite a bit, brought back to life with all the rain it got recently.

“Oh, don’t say that.” Louis protested, almost shaking his head before he realized he would end up poking his eye out if he followed through. “I have a hard time believing he ever purposefully avoids you.” Well, not exactly. He remembered one instance when Styles had actually avoided his mother deliberately, the day when he woke up with his face swollen, bruised and very obviously beaten. Still, that was an exception, Harry as big of a momma’s boy as they got.

“I know he’s busy. I’m just not all that good at having my babies away.” Her blink seemed to be more than just a natural response to her eyes getting dry.

Tomlinson sighed, Anne’s words setting in a heavy weight on his chest, that unexplainable longing for something he never had, fully tuning him out of the conversation that consisted of the woman talking and him nodding or automatic one-syllable responses where they felt appropriate.

“I look exactly the same.” He sighed out in response to the compliment about his new hairstyle, one that was pretty much ruined with water that made an undistinguishable mop of what once was a carefully styled concoction.

“Maybe.” Harry shrugged, going back to laying on his back, fully submitting his body to the force holding him afloat. “It still looks good on you.” One last time, he let himself reassure his friend in the slightest change of his appearance.

“Thanks.” Louis spewed and joined his friend in relaxing, their worn-out bodies floating next to each other, slowly drifting further to the side. Only the booming of music on the opposite side of the lake hasn’t matched that peaceful tranquillity they let themselves be swallowed by.

“I’ll give you the tee if you jump from the rope.” Harry proposed after a while of them just surrendering to the water that had them where it wanted, completely obedient to the element’s will.

“Three bucks for suicide? Seems like a deal to me.” He scoffed, obviously not serious in his answer. “I’ll pass, but thanks.”

“Come on…” Harry insisted. “I’ll catch you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“How’d you know?”

“I just do.” The teen’s shoulders shrugged without any reason since it’s not like anybody could see it.

“You want to bet?” Styles decided to wake up that gambler he knew was somewhere in his friend.

“No.”

“When I die, please remove my browser history and tell my father that it’s all his fault.” The teen made his last request as he now stood by the edge of the shore, thick rope clasped between his fingers. “What the fuck are you doing, Tomlinson?” He whispered to himself, looking at his friend who stood right where he landed after jumping himself. “I’m not going to land this far.” He shouted, trying to maximize his chances of survival.

The answer to the question when in the hell has he become so easily manipulated was not there, but his position clearly stated that it must’ve happened somewhere in the rather recent past. There wasn’t even anything at stake that would motivate him to jump! Harry fucking Styles, the wizard that knew exactly what to say, when and how to say it to have his pal do anything he desired, had him wrapped around his little finger.

Lou’s argument seemed to reason with the brunette, the man taking a step forward and waiting there to catch his friend if that is necessary. “We don’t have all day!” Harry shouted, his hastening not beneficial to the confidence the teen was slowly building to go for it and jump, only for the thrill of being reckless when he just  _ knew  _ pops wouldn’t approve of it.

They did not have all day, the sun already making its way off the sky, leaving with an orange tinge lingering around the sparse clouds.

Tomlinson took a deep breath, then another one, and stepped back, throwing himself into the few feet of run-up, grabbing the rope and fully entrusting his life to the odds that were rather in his favour if the outcome of Harry’s previous jumps were to be trusted.

A sudden rush of adrenaline tingled through his veins, and he felt himself floating, the split second he was falling stretched around him enough to let him feel everything, sharpening every sense he possessed, which he came to regret quite quickly.

Neither of the two should’ve been particularly surprised when the teen crashed into his friend, sending both of them underwater for a second or two it took for Harry to re-emerge and retrieve his friend. Louis was laughing, his reaction contrasting with the look of absolute terror on Styles’ face, only there from the fact that he didn’t exactly know what to expect of his pal.

Not…  _ that. _ The actual reaction was the furthest thing from what he could see coming. With his hands still gripped around both of the teen’s biceps, he joined in on the laugh, shaking his head fervently to get rid of the water that was streaming into his eyes, the splashing meeting with Lou’s disapproval.

“This was… something.” The boy chuckled, embarrassingly out of breath with the shortest distance he ran not even a minute ago.

“Yeah.” Harry answered, still yet to realize that he was touching his friend, which perhaps wasn’t all that awkward between the two of them, as much as it was between Styles and whoever could’ve been watching from the shore. “You should just trust me more often. I told you, I would catch you.”

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t trust you.” Only the vibration of that laughter that shook Tomlinson’s body reminded the brunette of their physical contact, both of large hands splashing them with water as they fell under. “And you didn’t catch shit.” He scoffed, refusing to let his companion take credit for something that was clearly just a lucky coincidence.

With a slight blush, barely distinguishable from the golden tan of his skin, Harry averted his pal’s gaze when he was caught looking. “Sorry.” His head shook once more.

Eyebrows pinched together in confusion, Louis took a step back, correctly reading Styles’ unusual reaction. “All good.” He forced a smile and laid back on the surface of the water, giving himself a minute to get his breathing to calm down after the rush the whole jump sent through him.

Remember when Louis called him crashing into Harry at the lake ’a lucky coincidence’? Yeah, that… was to be erased from the records completely, because really, what kind of bullshit claim was that? It didn’t exactly hold up now, where the entire left side of his chest hurt from the impact, ache his brain failed to acknowledge on the spot, temporarily distracted by all of the adrenaline that was rushing through his veins. All of it has worn off though, and now he was suffering consequences of Harry’s stupid idea on his own.

He  _ might have been  _ hoping that his friend was in pain as well, though he had no chance to ask since Harry, once again, ventured somewhere with a group of friends who were one-by-one, leaving the small town and going back to their normal lives, hence that little farewell they’ve organized in someone’s backyard. 

The bruised rib reminded him of the accident with every deeper breath he took, and he was taking quite a number of these as he was trying to relax, perhaps condition his brain to ignore the painful reminder of the evening at the lake. With head rolled to the side, buds tickling his eardrums with a peaceful melody of a song he hasn’t even remembered purchasing, the teen was soaking in the bathtub he had all for himself for once in his life, unlike all these times when he and his neighbour took showers so close together, neither could linger in the bathroom too much.

Now it was different, one positive thing coming from Harry being away. Having read through three whole chapters of a novel he borrowed from his pal, he tossed the book onto the counter next to the sink and let his brain rest for a bit or two, not overstimulating it with prose on top of the music and the ache it was doing a shitty job of ignoring.

Only the insistent grumbling of his stomach managed to get him out of the tub. With something to eat on his mind, he quickly threw on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt to shield his bare torso from mosquitos. Still having one objective on his agenda, he ran down the stairs, taking a turn into the kitchen where he found Frank destroying a sizable piece of pie Ada baked earlier that day.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime now, baby boy?” The farmer remarked with a mouth full of an indistinguishable mass of chewed-up desert.

Louis bit down on the furious expression that started easing itself onto his face in reaction to the nickname he involuntarily acquired and turned to the counter, so the last of it could pass. While he was at it, he picked an apple from the fruit bowl to get through the few more minutes he had filled with a chore before he could eat something proper. “Not quite yet, no.” He answered, already making his advances at the back door, still on his life mission of avoiding Frank as much as it was possible.

“Waiting for Harry to come read you a bedtime story?” The old man snickered into the plate he was scraping, diligently collecting the remnants of the filling, thankfully too occupied to have a single look of the boy who simply could not keep the unphased front.

Fine, they were never the biggest of friends with the man of the house, their characters clashing with every brief chat they were forced into, but there was something different in that remark, something almost furious in the host’s low voice.

Knowing that there was absolutely no point picking a fight there, the boy aware of how impulsive Frank got while inebriated and that he very obviously was, he just padded out of the kitchen without a word of acknowledgement for what the older guy considered a manifestation of his comedy genius.

The stroll to the stables was a peaceful one, stretched longer solely due to the ‘pleasant’ chat the teen had with Frank in the kitchen. If he was going to be lucky, the man was to be in his drunken slumber when he’s back home.

“Hello guys.” He greeted every single horse in the stables with a nod of his head, followed by a few quick strokes over the heads of each before he kicked off his task of leading the animals to the paddock for the night.

Sure, it was a bit late for that, the boy postponing a bit due to the bath he let himself take for quite longer than he usually would. The horses didn’t mind, though... at least they didn’t look especially irritated with his negligence.

“Harry said you’d be nice to me, is that right?” His face lit up at the sight of Raven, the last horse to be led out before Louis could go back to his business. “This is not much, but I know you like them.” The half of the apple he hasn’t gotten through was given to the stallion who snorted happily at the treat that might have been just a form of bribe, a lousy one at that. “Now come on.” Still with a bit of trepidation, not all that logical since he’s done that before on his own, he unlatched Raven’s box and grabbed the rope fastened to the halter Harry, thoughtful as always, must’ve strapped onto his stallion prior to leaving.

Halfway through the fairly short walk, Louis remained… somewhat calm, Raven as unphased as he got, flexing on his temporary caretaker who couldn’t exactly pride himself in composure anywhere close to that. Just to re-institute that still fragile bond he had with the stallion, far from permanent one, he let one of his hands graze the animal’s side as they walked, the meadow already in sight.

He let himself linger around the horses for a bit, keeping them company was an obvious excuse to cover that perhaps he was the one who needed it more. Quite a notch more comfortable with something he’d laugh at mere two weeks ago, he talked to the animals, though the expected lack of any response proved to be something he could not look past, therefore his social battery hasn’t managed to fill a whole lot.

The opportunity for some companionship came in the shape of Ada’s rather small silhouette reaching to get the laundry off the line just outside the kitchen window. He hasn’t even asked if his help was needed, knowing from experience that she would, most definitely, say no, stuck in that truly medieval in nature belief that things like that were for a woman to tackle. Not agreeing with that, he started on the second line, folding the clothes as well as his ability allowed, which was not  _ that  _ bad, not amazing either.

It was difficult to ever chat with Ada since the woman fell under the category of those who stayed mostly quiet. This was not how Louis was usually, but he also belonged there when dealing with strangers, which was who the woman still was. With neither of them being the most chatty people out there, they remained silent, that fact let Louis notice that he could hear Harry inside, his rasp filtering outside through the window as the brunette spoke. This only meant that Frank wasn’t asleep yet, and that was not something the teen was ecstatic about.

Being fairly well mannered, he decided that abandoning the hostess mid-folding was not something a polite boy like him should do, so he persisted, surely he wouldn’t suffer too much with the few minutes he would have to hold out before he goes back to annoying Harry.

But then, the voices inside became louder, though Tomlinson couldn’t say he focused on whatever the men were talking about previously, just assuming it was their usual catching up on the matters regarding the farm they looked over together. It hasn’t sounded like that now, Lou’s interest spiking when he realized the guys were very obviously arguing.

He knew he hadn’t imagined that with as little as a glance he caught of Ada who looked at the kitchen window, a determined expression on her face. She surely could not see anything significant, the curtains while slightly see-through, were enough of a barrier to provide privacy.

“How much stuff can four people go through?” The woman remarked, not incredibly sly in her attempt to distract the teen from Harry’s raised voice. “I swear to God, had three kids in here at once and it wasn’t near close to all of this.” She forced a chuckle, folding a pair of boxers in half.

The brief pause in their conversation was filled with Harry’s voice, altered in that surprisingly dominant way Louis couldn’t say he heard before. “With all due respect, but this is none of your business, Frank.” He insisted, his rasp standing no objection, raising goosebumps on the back of the teen’s neck when he heard how cold the brunette man sounded.

“Must’ve been a real mayhem here with kids, the animals and all that.” Louis forced himself back into the chat that was there only to pretend that there was nothing else happening around them.

“There was.” Ada’s expression eased up when she recalled having all of her children by her side. She was just about to add something when Frank’s voice overpowered everything with “Don’t make me regret taking you in, boy.”, which was nowhere near as threatening as Harry managed to come off as, showing this discrepancy in their power dynamic the teen hasn’t seen yet. “But I’ve managed.” The matron chimed back in, lifting the basket full of laundry she had yet to sort through.

They approached the door, exchanging puzzled looks when the voices inside grew shushed, but still very obviously pointed. They just stood there, in unison pondering whether they should just opt for the front door instead. It proved to be unnecessary.

“I’m not even doing anything, for fuck’s sake!” They realized what was happening all too late, the door flying open to reveal visibly distraught Harry who was just about to storm out when he stumbled upon Louis and Ada, who would look idiotic if they claimed they weren’t listening in. “This is a fucking joke.” He murmured to himself.

Unsure how he should act in a situation quite like this one, Tomlinson gave his friend an unsure look, scrutinizing the face that was strangely intimidating for no reason at all.

“Stay out of this.” Harry growled and took off with hands pushed into the pockets of his pants, the darkness covering him with mere few steps he took, making him impossible to locate even if Lou wanted to do that, which he didn’t think was a very good idea one way or another, that’s literally what he’s been just told.

Let’s just say that this encounter, added to the sight of Frank, red on the face and still clearly furious, rid the teen of all the appetite he had previously. Following Ada who acted as if nothing happened, trusting that this was the way to go since the woman was clearly much more experienced with situations like this one, he went upstairs, their paths splitting in the corridor when the boy turned into his bedroom, where he was determined to stay for the rest of that exhausting day.

Undeniably curious about the reason behind the argument he witnessed downstairs, Louis knew better than to live in a delusion that he was going to find out what exactly transpired between Harry and Frank. With that, there was no reason for him to push back on the sleepiness that lingered in him ever since he woke up on Anne’s couch.

So he laid down in his bed, muffling out the conversation between spouses that made it into his room with earbuds that quietly sang into his ears. Far more peaceful than he would be had it been him, whom Harry was mad at, he found himself drifting away easier than he would predict to, still wildly interested not only in what happened but also with his friend’s whereabouts that were to stay a mystery; if not forever, then at least for the rest of that long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's later than I usually post, didn't know whether I'd be uploading today because school leaves me no time to correct these.  
>  Idk if anybody is even reading this shit, so yeah... Leave a comment if you enjoyed, or not, I can't make you do anything.  
>  Anyways, thanks for being here, see you friday hopefully.


	9. Chapter 9

“Please, by all means don’t hesitate to stop me if I get ahead of myself.” Harry commented on the tinge of confusion he thought he picked up on his friend’s face. “Sometimes I forget that all of this is not something everybody just knows about.” His broad shoulders shrugged, a rope of water spurting out of the head of the hose he was wielding twitched with his movement.

“Way to call me stupid.” The smaller guy scoffed under his nose, standing to the side and observing as his superior neared the end of the tutorial on one of a few chores that, as he found out in the morning, were added to the list of their duties for whatever reason.

That’s what he was still so confused about, especially having yet to slip back out of the slumber that weighed heavy on him with the whole ten hours he managed to sleep through, a glorious total, but not without consequences. Harry was a whole different story. With exhaustion collected in dark bags under his eyes, one of which still enhanced with the yellow of a bruise he was sporting for a few days now, it was clear as day that he has not slept well.

It was no secret that the farmer’s lifestyle hasn’t allowed nearly as much sleep as his system probably required. Still, that fact hasn’t yet been manifested so openly, even after these nights when they got carried away in their conversations and ended up substituting a night’s rest for a nap.

Maybe it was his weariness, but Harry was weird that morning. Even if they managed to hang out around each other for maybe an hour since they kicked off their new routine, something was clearly off. Louis hasn’t inquired thought, still remembering his friend’s furious expression from the evening prior. As if they were back to the start of their relationship, he let himself be introduced to the new duties that were laid on his shoulders… well, Harry’s more like, but that also, more or less directly concerned him.

“God, aren’t you the cutest?” He crouched and cooed at the piglet that wouldn’t leave him alone, running in eights in between his legs, painting his calves with mud and ruining the trainers he probably shouldn’t have brought to the farm in the first place. “Don’t tell the others, but you’re my absolute favourite.” He winked at the animal that snorted against the ankle it pressed its nose to, enjoying the soft pats the teen gave to its side. Of course, his tendency to panic kept him very aware of the mother who seemed to be observing the stranger very carefully from aside.

He was in that particular pen twice, thrice tops since this was not something that Harry usually took care of, so if he wandered there, it was to look at the little piglets that were absolutely the most adorable things out there, thought the messiness of them left the teen rather avoiding up-close interaction. Now that this new chore was forced onto him, he was yet to decide whether the cuteness of the small ones was nearly enough to make up for the nasty nature of the care they demanded.

“They’ll devour pretty much everything you give them.” Harry explained as he was filling the trough with something that looked strangely similar to dog kibble, all of the animals rushing for the feast, fully ignoring the fresh water they were just provided by the teen after he dumped the stagnant one in the corner of the enclosure, re-moistening the dried out mud the pigs used to cool themselves during the summer. “But we mostly just rely on that so there’s no surprises when the slaughter comes. The meat tends to vary based on what they eat.” The man concluded the tutorial, his matter-of-fact demeanour almost foreign to the teen who already forgot how professional their acquaintance used to be by the start.

Wait, no… Louis’ face scrunched at the sole thought of these little chubbies becoming food somewhere in the future. “You eat them?” He asked, almost outraged, voice hushed as if he could be understood by the hogs.

“Yeah.” Harry answered without a trace of hesitancy in his voice. Ending that rather short routine of tending to the pigs, he turned on his heel and walked out of the pen, hopping over the fence that kept the animals contained. “Oh, don’t you give me that look.” He pleaded, already seeing that borderline disgust in his helper’s eyes.

It wasn’t even disgust... Tomlinson didn’t even know what it was, to be fair. He just sort of felt uneasy with the idea of eating a pet, and sure, these animals weren’t exactly considered pets, kept for reasons other than the companionship of course, but it still would be weird, wouldn’t it? “I’m not… I just don’t think I could. Which now I realise I’ve probably eaten quite a chunk of any of the previous piglets that might have lived there in the past.” He grimaced at the realisation, following Harry to the chicken enclosure that was another new step added to their routine.

Styles purposefully omitted the fact that the boy was correct, not nearly as fussy with food as he was by the start of his countryside adventure, enjoying a fair share of the products provided by the various animals he tended to on the daily. But Harry couldn’t blame him for the conflict that arose in him, having struggled through the same path back in the day. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.” He responded as they already made their way over to the chicken pen, Harry once again showing off his agility as he jumped over the fence with significantly more grace than his younger friend. “Or maybe it’s not all that complex now that I think about it.”

With a confused frown on the teen’s face, he followed his friend to the familiar barrel and picked up a pitcher full of seed before he could get assigned something far less pleasurable than that. Well, not exactly pleasurable, that’s not how he would describe throwing food with furious poultry that acted like it hasn’t seen a seed in a week or something, but he got the better end of the deal either way. “What do you mean?” He finally inquired after pondering a moment over Harry’s words, not landing himself anywhere closer to knowing what was Styles on about.

“I see it like that…” A quick pause as he emptied old water from the container onto the grass, apparently deeming the amount insignificant enough to conserve by making a trip to whatever else that needed watering. “We take care of them, keep them happy and then they sort of… thank us, I guess…” A question mark placed at the end of his last word. “My mom always told me that they do that, thank us for their happy lives by providing sustenance and it makes sense to me even if it sounds super childish when I say it out loud.” He shrugged, a smirk bending his lips at the memory of his mother putting the whole debacle in such nice words. “You may disagree with me, god knows it wouldn’t be the first time.” A scoff broke off the sentence. “Though knowing how cruel the whole industry is, I consider our way to be more humane than just going to Walmart and picking up a pack of whatever, all ready to eat, fully washing our hands off any accountability for what these poor animals go through.”

Anne’s way turned out to be working not only for kids with quite limited perception of what goes on in the world they live in, but also mostly grown-up adults that maybe, just maybe, were the part of the problem Styles mentioned. The childish explanation reasoned with the teen, though hasn’t rid of the guilt completely. Never being strong enough to stick to being vegetarian, three attempts he had ending around two week’s mark when he just said fuck it and got himself a Big Mac, he knew that this new fact he learned about the way the household he was currently residing in acquired meat wasn’t enough for him to stop eating it, even attempting not to quite pointless.

“Are we riding horses or swimming today? Or maybe both?” The boy inquired, considering that one of the three was given to happen when they’re done with their chores.

Harry looked surprisingly confused with the question, just as if it was ridiculous of Louis to acknowledge something they’ve been doing on the daily as a routine and expecting for it to happen somewhere later in the day. “Neither.” He revealed, turning away from the boy who, for a change, was the one puzzled as a result of that answer. “I’m busy, sorry.” He threw without as little as looking at his pal who now finished feeding the chickens.

Picking up a basket, Louis slipped inside of the coop, quickly swiping eggs from where he noticed them, not without politely apologising to the hens for stealing their potential babies. With the yield hung over his left arm, he opted for the gate since anything more turbulent than that would more likely than not, render all of his efforts pointless. He followed Harry to the house, leaving the eggs for Ada to do… whatever she did with them really.

Yet to have an actual breakfast apart from the two bites of an apple he had a chance to swallow before his favourite little piglet managed to steal it from him using its charm and exploiting the second of distraction, he made a beeline for the fridge, far more relaxed in the kitchen with Frank still snoring upstairs when the rest of the residents were already past their first chores. A good life that one had.

He was spared from making the incredibly hard choice of deciding what to eat for breakfast, when Ada, in her rather usual motherly manner, offered to prepare something for them. She hasn’t even disclosed what would that be, but it was safe to say that it was bound to be better than a bowl of cereal the boy was somewhat set on already.

“Can I take him out later?” Tomlinson asked while he and his overseer were leading the horses back to the stables, maybe a bit prematurely since the sun was nowhere near severe enough to harm the animals, but that’s what Ada sent them off to do while she worked on the breakfast, so they complied. His question met with a furrow of Styles’ eyebrows, clearly unsure whether he should allow his fairly skilled, yet still very much novice friend to take Grease for a spin or two on his own. “Just around here, nothing crazy.” The boy reassured, still not comfortable enough to venture somewhere outside the perimeter he was familiar with.

“Sure.” Harry threw carelessly, latching the box he just closed Raven inside, calmly stroking his stallion’s muzzle with the top of his hand. “See you later, yeah?” He cooed, this loving demeanour clashing with his initial lack of enthusiasm.

‘He is tired.’ The teen looped in his head, maybe a bit panicked due to that sudden change of dynamic between them. Usually, it was him who was the blasé one, just sort of following Harry around with a look on his face that explicitly sold the idea that he only did that because he had to, especially so early in the morning. Adding up to the exhaustion solidified on Styles’ face, was the fact that he could have still been mad about the fight he had with his boss last evening, and fair, Louis thought it was inappropriate to take it all out on him when he was nowhere near involved in the argument, but then, the brunette wasn’t exactly lashing out on him, his unfamiliar pensiveness far from a display of aggression or hostility.

So, being the one on the mission this particular morning, Louis quickly replaced the water in horses’ buckets while the proper stable boy lingered around Raven’s box, bonding with his stallion, waiting for his helper to be done.

“What are you so incredibly busy with today then?” The mistake he made with that inquiry became obvious before Louis even stopped talking, asking only because the silence between them as they were making their way to the farmhouse weighed heavy on him in that unbearably awkward way.

He sure as fuck hasn’t made it any better with his talking, Harry’s grimace clearly stating that this was not something he was keen on discussing. “It’s just…” His face further contorted in a frown. “Stuff.” His scoff indicative of the fact that he was aware how stupid this strange secrecy was, especially that he wasn’t actually doing anything, though that wasn’t something Lou could’ve known.

“Stuff.” The boy nodded as if he just got the most reasonable answer, one leaving no room for uncertainty, and abandoned it there, giving up on that conversation, clearly seeing that his efforts to spur Harry into one of these chats about nothing that felt so characteristic to them was not something he would be able to achieve.

They haven’t even managed to enter the house, and the smell of bacon, wrapped its metaphorical fist around the boy’s stomach, hunger pulling him towards the source of it, the kitchen, where Ada exceeded all expectations he ever had towards the breakfast, and he hasn’t even seen what she was cooking.

The scrambled eggs she served with toast and a whole heap of bacon was something Louis subliminally knew he needed after almost starving through the night, but never in his life intended to attempt to prepare. But now that he had a whole spread in front of himself, looking like a high-gloss lifestyle magazine page come to life, all freshly brewed coffee and orange juice, he must’ve been the happiest camper in this house, the whole village even.

As much as he wasn’t maybe the one to judge, being the furthest thing away from a coffee enthusiast, Harry seemed to be abusing the privilege with two solid cups he’s gotten through. Apart from asking whether Louis wouldn’t mind switching his coffee for a glass of juice he had to offer in exchange, they’ve stayed quiet, at least between each other, only brief, separate chats were picked up and quickly dropped with Ada, who decided to eat with them, which was not something she’s done all that frequently. Louis almost scoffed at the coincidence that made her pick this particular day to join them, from all the previous breakfasts filled with pleasurable banter. 

Only the radio provided relief from that overwhelming silence broken with the clattering of the dinnerware, making it easier to get through the top tier breakfast. “This was… oh God, the best breakfast I ever had.” Louis colourised his statement perhaps a tiny bit, but the smile he got in exchange for it was well worth it.

Thankfully enough, he was already finishing up his second glass of juice, something his stomach surely did not need, when Frank paraded into the kitchen, wearing his staple morning attire of absolutely nothing at all other than briefs that left horrifyingly little to the imagination. The odds were on his side, the seat he chose for himself not giving him all that many opportunities to look at the older farmer.

The greeting Tomlinson murmured against the rim of his glass was brief and rather disingenuous in nature. However, he looked like a real savoir-vivre champion in comparison with Harry, who looked like he was going to throw up at the very sight of his boss. Either that or strangle the guy with his bare hands, which wouldn’t be all that difficult not only because he was far superior over the older guy physically, but also the fact how out of it the host was, still partially asleep as it seemed.

He hadn’t done any of that, obviously, immediately leaving the table without as little as taking his dishes to the sink, out of the door before anybody even noticed he stood up. That was not how Harry acted, even Louis knew that with the brevity of their relationship. It was almost ridiculous that the loudest giveaway that something was seriously wrong were the dumb dishes left on the table, ones the man’s manners wouldn’t let him just abandon if everything was normal.

One snarky remark from Frank he ignored and two sets of dishes washed later, Louis excused himself with his duties and left the house as well, not entirely sure where he should even go. It didn’t seem like Harry craved his company, absolute opposite of that really. So, mindful of that, he returned to the stables where he knew he wouldn’t find his friend considering that due to their somewhat flexible schedule, it was time for cow duty.

Not wanting to come off as if he was trying to avoid work, he busied himself with grooming the horses, something very therapeutic in contact with animals, doing wonders for that tense atmosphere that influenced him surprisingly severely during the time he spent with Harry. To get rid of the illogical loneliness that started weighing on him, long since forgotten how it is to be without Styles’ presence somewhere around, he continued cooing to whichever animal he tackled, taking his time, likely unnecessarily diligent with every stroke of a brush.

The whole day felt like some bizarre fever dream, something so disturbing in how alone he was even if he’d beg for that solitude mere two weeks in the past. It was tiresome. An unsettling sense of uncertainty whether this was the new normal, took over his thoughts for the majority of the day he spent roaming around, trying not to let that free time he was suddenly avalanched in go to waste. That resolution was fully out of the window whenever he tried to do something productive. The lines of a book he tried to read were falling out of his head the second he moved onto the next one, and that’s as much as he had to offer at this stage.

He managed to clean his room at the very least. Dusting the flat surfaces, picking clothes off the floor and rearranging the closet was something he simply couldn’t find time for before, so that’s what he ticked off his to-do-list as soon as he got some of it.

Nobody who knew him a bit better than a casual acquaintance did, wouldn’t have troubles believing that he’s done a shamefully egregious job of packing his luggage. That shouldn’t have shocked him nearly as much as it did when the few days of rain surprised him and he found himself without a single long sleeve to wear. Sure, it was summer, so he technically shouldn’t need any. And… yeah, that excuse hadn’t worked with common logic just as much as it hadn’t worked with Harry. He was quite amused with his friend’s fate when the teen admitted that perhaps his chaotic tossing of whatever into the suitcase an hour before departing, resulted in some holes on the list of things he should’ve packed but somehow forgot.

While obtaining a comb or a pair of truly ancient earbuds to go with his iPod, wasn’t the hardest thing to do, all of that taken care of still on the road to Wisconsin, filling his closet with cosy attire with seventy dollars he had to his name was rather challenging, to say the least.

Thankfully enough, Harry stepped in and offered to borrow a few pieces to the careless pal, sending the teen to rummage through his wardrobe during one of their frequent visits at Anne’s. Harry’s clothing had a designated compartment in the dresser, just so it doesn’t get tangled with Louis’ mess and taken to New York, which would be rather rude of the teen, wouldn’t it? And of course, it was big on him, the sleeves of the three hoodies he picked for himself rolled in a thick ring that hung heavy around his wrists, but it was better than wasting the last bit of money on whatever disposable clothing his seventy bucks could get in a second-hand store.

There was one piece Tomlinson was proud to call his though, a tee he was already planning to embarrass his father in. The same one Harry picked up at Goodwill, so charmed with the raunchy imagery he hasn’t paid too much attention to the size, which, as predicted by Anne, proved to be too small. Knowing that conservative hosts wouldn’t exactly approve of the graphic, he planned to break that bad boy out to sleep in it, soft and fragrant after being washed by Styles who tried to keep Ada unaware of the gift he left for Louis on his bed in the morning, not acknowledging the kind gesture with even a word when they first saw each other that day.

So, that was what he was doing with his time, not much at all. Not long since concluded the stroll through the well-known path that split the forest in two, he walked uphill to the barn, eyes stuck to the shadow of him cast by the setting sun.

It wasn’t all that random, his destination. Exhausted with the quietness around him, he craved human contact to the point where, fully aware that his companionship was unwanted, he still headed to the direct source of loud, almost thunder-like commotion his ears picked up even before he reached the farm, there was no doubt in his mind who was behind all that banging.

And he was right, his confidence in that assumption left no room for hesitation. Deeper in the big barn than they would usually venture, stood Harry, clad in his tennis shoes and cargo shorts he must’ve loved wearing considering how many pairs he owned, majority of them in the most boring shades that were only worthy of being called khaki.

Hesitant whether this was even a good idea to approach, he stood by the entrance, letting his eyes measure Harry who had his back turned to the boy, oblivious to the fact that he was not alone anymore. What looked to be a gallon of sweat, was spread in a layer around his torso, glittering strangely enticingly in the orange light that filtered through the other set of doors to the barn. He worked in a fixed pattern, swinging an axe, splitting timber into smaller pieces he only then tossed to the side to tackle another one from the endless mound to his left.

The teen wanted to laugh at how much it sounded like a scene he would read in a harlequin novel, so eagerly devoured by housewives who distracted themselves from the dullness of their own lives with thrilling romances of fictional women so similar to them in the past, wondering what could’ve been if they haven’t wed to their boring, old husbands.

Just as the lost protagonist would, he decided to interrupt, halfway there realising that perhaps he should approach rather carefully, the wireless earphones sticking out of Harry’s ears clearly stating that he was unaware of the teen’s arrival. So, taking small steps, he walked into the brunette’s peripheral vision, thankfully not startling him enough to cause any tragedy the axe threatened with.

He hopped onto a stray hay bale, legs crossed as he let himself take in the sight from the new angle, arguably the better one. Sure, Harry’s sculpted backside was rather impressive in itself, with the muscles flexing around the symmetrical shoulder blades with every swing of the axe. Tight shorts were enhancing the enjoyable side-effect of all the squatting implemented into brunette’s workout routine. Still, Louis found himself gravitating towards the front, just the angle he appreciated more often.

Harry looked as if he was debating whether it was even worth it to take the buds out of his ears for the teen, which only reminded Louis of the unreasonable awkwardness between the two of them, one that fully distracted him from the glistening golden sheet of skin stretched over swollen pecs his eyes lingered on longingly. 

With hours of pondering over the reason why Harry was even arguing with Frank, and more importantly, what the fuck was he guilty of to deserve this strange treatment, he remained as clueless as in the morning. What he knew though, was that Styles’ mood hasn’t transformed back into the usual, which despite how annoying he sometimes happened to be, too inquisitive for his own good, a volatile mix with his stubbornness, was a familiar constant Louis grew to miss quicker than he ever would predict himself to.

“Blowing off some steam, I see.” He dared to speak first when the taller one tossed the earbuds into a pocket of his shorts, the rest of the routine stayed unchanged, the bangs of the axe against the lumber startling for a minute it took Louis to accept the pattern.

The expression on Harry’s face was more pensive than the stern one he wore the last time Lou got a glimpse of it in passing, that observation probably shouldn’t have pleased the boy nearly as much as it did, still different from normal. “I guess you could call it like that.” His shoulders shrugged as he leaned to pick up another piece of lumber to split in more manageable bits. “How you’ve been today?” The flippancy with which the question was thrown into the heated air around them, spoke volumes about the absolute lack of interest Harry had in whatever answer he was yet to be given.

“Clueless. Confused.” Louis replied in a laugh that failed the task of releasing some of that tension of unknown origin that was almost solidified between them, with no foreshadowing of going away anytime soon. “There’s really not much to do around here. I cleaned my room, had a walk and just…”

“There are bikes in the shed.” Styles cut in when he realised that Louis wasn’t likely to find the words he wanted to say, taking a break to slice through a thick piece of wood with ease that wasn’t even surprising to the teen now after he witnessed far too many displays of the man’s borderline supernatural strength to underestimate it. “The tires are probably flat by now, but I’ll make sure to fix up one for you before I leave. You know, if you feel like exploring something further than your legs can take you.”

It seemed unnecessary for the boy to disclose that Harry’s statement was flawed, the man unaware of the fact that with how unexercised the teen’s legs generally were, he’d more likely drop dead after cycling a mile or two, which was significantly less than what he could just walk. So, he nodded his head, acknowledging the fact that, if he interpreted the words correctly, this was, in fact, more of a new normal.

He couldn’t blame him really. Had the roles been switched and he was the one babysitting a spoiled brat for free, he wouldn’t be nearly as patient as his superior was in the two weeks they’ve spent nearly inseparable. Surely these fifteen days… sixteen maybe, Lou losing track of time already, were enough of a tutorial preparing the teen to tackle his parts of the routine on his own.

It wasn’t completely untrue... that particular day showed that he was capable of what was expected of him. Still, it felt so awfully dull when he did his chores by himself, he could see himself hanging before the vacation is over if that state of things continues.

“You’re going out?” Louis asked, exploiting last moments of the conversation that was bound to fizzle out pretty soon with how much strain it took to keep it alive, although that was not even what this caricature should’ve been deemed. The bikes were insignificant, just as the idea of his new life all alone seemed to be. And of course, it was not insignificant at all, but the decision looked to have been made already, his input apparently very much unnecessary. As humiliating as it felt to be back in this position of being looked over, sad since he thought he’d at least get these few weeks off, it strangely felt sort of soothing in the familiarity of it contrasting with the altogether weirdness.

In fact, he felt so familiarly powerless, he wanted to fall to his knees and throw a tantrum, just something that he sometimes did in moments like this one… maybe gouge his own eyes out and then Harry’s, even if that particular order would prove to be problematic had he followed through with his childish instinct.

“I think I’ll stay at home from now on.”

And that fucking hurt, more than it would probably be appropriate for it to sting, heaps more than he would like to admit that it did. That’s why he said nothing, just nodded his head, trying to look as if that information hasn’t phased him at all.

Harry owed him nothing, that was not even the case he tried to argue in his thoughts… but maybe he actually ventured there, subconsciously feeling like he had to remind himself of the fact. Still, Harry must’ve been aware that he was the only person keeping Lou sane out there in the backwoods, right? Apparently not, the decision so easily thrown between banging of the axe that it didn’t look like he had any difficulties making it, expression etched in the mask he was wearing ever since the teen paraded into the barn, hoping that the man took his time calming down and they could just go back to normal. 

After quick “Oh” he threw at that, the reaction more genuine than anything they’ve said to each other that day, he decided there was no use staying, even his pathetic thirst quenched by the revelation. So, after sliding off the bale he left where he found it, he excused himself with an undisclosed, oh-so-important chore that couldn’t wait for him to tackle, and there he went, unsure what he should do with himself now that he didn’t have a babysitter to think of pastimes for him.

-

Thursday crept up on Louis, days consolidated in a grey, truly repulsive mass of dull. They seemed to be passing by in a blink, even if at the moment, the minutes, paradoxically felt like they tripled their usual span.

Four. That was the number of times he spoke or was spoken to by Harry, whom he already got used to seeing in passing. A quick, meaningless in nature ‘hello’, clearly forced at each other, usually concluded their interaction as the brunette tended to disappear after he was done with his chores, only the exhausted howl of his truck’s engine as a farewell.

Surprisingly enough, Tomlinson got accustomed to the new routine fairly quickly, by Thursday evening already done with grieving the friendship that was stripped away from him so brutally. If Harry didn’t care to put bare minimum into maintaining contact, whatever the actual reason for moving back with his mother might have been, he hasn’t deserved a second of Lou’s time, even a stray thought about him too much attention paid by the teen to this douchebag.

As anybody would probably guess, he had a lot of time on his hands and too little options on how to use it. A big chunk of his time was spent with the animals, didn’t matter if it were cows, his chubby pink friends, malicious chickens or horses. Wherever neither Frank nor Harry was, he went.

But that was not enough. His underfilled schedule still held so many open spots, he had no idea how to use them. There’s only so much one can spend re-reading books, the ones he borrowed from Harry already finished, jerking off to his iPod porn or just walking around like a lost child, which was exactly who he turned into.

The bike Harry fixed for him came in handy when battling the boredom. As much as it was real torture reintroducing long-forgotten exercise into his life, as soon as he got the hang of it and his calves stopped acting up after ten spins of the pedals, he began exploring the town on daily rides.

With skin drenched in Repel, a bottle of water and an iPod in the front basket of a blue bike leftover from one of Ada’s children, he took off as soon as the sun started setting, without any expectations of what he was going to see or how long he was going to be gone. Then, on Wednesday, he left the iPod at home, just forgotten it, which led to discovering the glory of that peaceful tranquillity of nature, rarely a reminder that he was not, in fact, taken back in time to when there was no cars, no phones and, well… bikes, his story perhaps a bit flawed. Long story short, he hasn’t intended to bring his iPod for any of the incoming rides.

He’s only now come back from the grocery store he frequented more now that he didn’t have to depend on anyone to drive him. A bag Ada handmade from old bed linens in his hand, he skipped over a step and fell into the living room through the screen door he pulled open.

Before he even got to entering the kitchen, where he was sure would be the best place to drop off the few things he was asked to pick up, he heard the ringing of a voice that despite not being very close to his heart, managed to send a rush of excitement through his body. It felt weird, an exception from this rather unaffected stance he adapted a few days prior.

Fuck, he missed Anne, he really did. Only then he realised that not seeing her was a strong position on the top three list of worst things resulting from the falling out with Harry. Face brightened with a smile, trying to force the corners of his lips down, so he didn’t look so pathetic, he strutted into the kitchen, confirming that there was, in fact, Harry’s mother on one of the chairs, not that her distinct voice left any room for doubt.

At least some of his feelings seemed to be reciprocated, the clearest display of that in Anne’s silhouette that rose off her seat immediately when she was greeted by the teen, abandoning her tea for a second it took for her to embrace the boy with all her might.

“We’re going to have a word about you keeping this one here all to yourself, Ada.” She tried to be stern, but her act was quickly betrayed by the crinkles around her eyes, pinched together by the apples of her cheeks as she smiled. “I know he’s delightful, but you cannot simply keep him here all the time.” Her head shook, wavy, dark brunette hair bouncing around it.

It felt strange to hear her talk about him in such a way, this feeling only brought the image of Harry back into the teen’s head because really, if he felt so weird with one person speaking of him as if he was some angel sent on earth, he couldn’t even imagine being regarded in such a manner by the whole town, and that was precisely what the guy had to deal with. Sure, he should feel flattered if anything, but then, there was this layer of awkwardness he couldn’t help but wonder if was only something he felt or more common sensation.

Ada only murmured a response Louis couldn’t say he caught from the counter where he was already unpacking the groceries, a pack of hot Cheetos he craved for what felt like eternity pushed to the side, so he didn’t forget to take it upstairs.

Even if he and the woman spent significantly more time together now that Harry has abandoned the position of Lou’s babysitter, the teen couldn’t say they have talked a whole lot, Ada as difficult of a company as it got, maybe even more so than her husband. However, that was up for a debate due to the very different ways he and she were hard to accompany.

She just sort of took over Styles’ position, meaning that the two of them sometimes just found themselves hanging around each other rather than with each other. If he saw her ironing laundry, he offered to fold it, his technique already significantly improved with two tutorials it took to get him to get a hang on the chore, which, in the eyes of some might look funny, but in his was quite an accomplishment.

Similarly, if the solitude started to get unbearable, he wandered into the living room, picked up a random position from the rather understocked bookshelf and sat on the couch, pretending he was reading when the woman was doing her knitting in the armchair. They even cooked dinner once! Must’ve been Tuesday when he offered to help with undemanding tasks like chopping vegetables for a pot roast she was preparing. That’s as much as his abilities allowed, but he was still given credit for participating in the feeding of the ‘family’. Lou would take offence in the smirk that eased itself onto Harry’s face when Ada announced that the teen helped her, but he didn’t care enough to address the insult. Harry still ate with them most of the days, and there was no mystery that this was happening only because Frank ate much later in the evening. Technically, he only held a grudge against him, even if his behaviour indicated otherwise.

He couldn’t believe the woman was nearly as mute with Anne as she tended to be around him, because really, how do you bond without speaking? If that was the case, he could use some pointers from Anne since the current state of things foreshadowed the matron of the household being the only companion of his disturbingly boring life.

Knowing how impossible it was not to notice that something was off between the two youngest guys, Louis was quite thankful Ada hadn’t acknowledged that fact with a single word, just like she hasn’t said anything when Harry announced he would be sleeping at his actual home for an undisclosed amount of time.

It must’ve been her knowing what the infamous fight was about, having a husband, who was rather compliant to her orders as a source she could take this information from. Frustrating it was, being the only one unaware of what was happening, but then, after a bit of pondering Louis sometimes did, more or less consciously, he really couldn’t demand being filled in on personal dramas of these people he knew what, two weeks?

Snapping back into reality, trying not to look like a literal psycho, the boy turned towards the table, hands clasped at the edge of the counter he leaned on. “I see I’m not the only one who decided to revamp my look, am I?” He snickered politely at Ada, noticing the new hairstyle that was not exactly new at all, the transformation just as dramatic as his own.

Ada’s cheeks flushed soft pink, pinched in a smile hidden behind the mug she was having her coffee in. “Longer hair never really worked for me, too impractical. You would know, I can imagine.” She winked at the boy who was now busy feasting on strawberries he situated himself by.

“Oh, absolutely.” His head shook just barely so, hand almost flying to slap himself for how absolutely ridiculous he caught himself sounding, this demeanour undeniably picked up from Harry. “I think I’d die if you haven’t eased my suffering, Anne.”

‘Kissass.’, he insulted himself without speaking a word, going through the fruit in quick succession.

“And here I was thinking you weren’t visiting because I’ve messed it up.” The guest remarked after finishing her drink, relaxed in her seat with legs crossed elegantly.

“No, not at all.” The teen scoffed, falling silent as he struggled to find a viable excuse that wasn’t straight-up telling the truth, that one not exactly a viable solution. “It’s just busy around here, I’ll pop in as soon as I get some time off.”

Of course, he felt fucking shitty for lying like that, even worse knowing that Ada could’ve quickly called bullshit on his claim, yet she, thank God, stayed silent.

“Oh, I think Harry mentioned you two getting more chores, slipped my mind completely.” Anne nodded her head, turning it to her friend. “Busy at the farm, is it?”

“Like every summer.” The hostess shrugged her shoulders, reaching for a cookie from the tin in the middle of the table. “We manage though, especially with Louis here. He doesn’t believe me, but having him around really helps a lot.”

Barely able to hold in a laugh that started scratching his throat as soon as he heard Ada providing him with an indisputable alibi, he pushed himself away from the counter, quickly pouring a glass of water he planned to take upstairs, where he was headed. “I’ll leave you girls to your devices.” His expression simply pressing his lips together rather than a genuine smile. “No gossip though, you’re better than that.” Concluding his statement with a wink, he left with his glass of water and party bag of Cheetos he intended to savour, though deep down, he knew he would get through embarrassingly quickly.


	10. Chapter 10

“I’m ba…” His voice cut off the moment he caught a glimpse of Harry at the very top of the stairs, quite an unusual sight to see ever since Louis was so carelessly discarded as a friend. His eyes lingered on the silhouette once so familiar, the man chewing on a celery stick, looking back at the boy.

“Where were you gone?” The question surprised him with the amount of fucks Styles seemed to be giving about his life. One, at the very least, was already so much more than the teen has gotten in these six days he barely spoke with a man he still called a friend for the sake of convenience and leaving his own thought processes rather uncomplicated.

A furrow in between his eyebrows, Louis debated whether Harry even deserved a word from him, growing increasingly more infuriated over the debacle he found himself involved in, or more like the lack of knowledge why he even landed in it in the first place. “Your mom’s.” Holding the truth secret was entirely pointless, he could already see the brunette finding out about the visit with a massive chunk of a pie that the boy made disappear, a slice for later in a plastic container he still held in his hand.

A very underwhelming “okay” later, only that in terms of acknowledgement from Harry’s side, Louis decided that he’s long done with trying to squeeze more than two syllables out of his friend, not nearly as desperate to keep the conversation going as he was on Monday, Tuesday even. Already given up on that particular relation, he left the doormat and headed for the kitchen, almost losing his hearing when the landline, hanging in the corridor, rang directly into his ear, altogether throwing out of the window Lou’s doubts whether the thing even worked.

Not overthinking it, he picked up the receiver and pressed the coral pink object to his face in a manner he only saw in movies, never having a chance to actually use that particular relic of the past. “Hello, you’ve reached…” Panic spilt cold over his body when he realised he didn’t even know the last name of people he was living with for three weeks. “Frank and Ada’s farm. This is Louis speaking, there’s nobody else around for now so I can either suggest you to call later, or take a message if that helps.”

Having unlocked a new career path of a secretary in case everything goes wrong in his life, the teen waited for a response with his back pressed to the wall, spinning the cable around his index finger in a way he always saw teens in films do.

“Louis!” The excited voice on the other end of the line could only belong to one person, the name of which almost made him shove the receiver angrily like, once more, in the movies.

“Fucking hell.” He snarled under his breath, not too concerned whether his profanity would be heard by the person he was ‘talking’ with. “What do you want?” Hostility loud and clear in his words, teeth clenched so hard, he already thought about scheduling an appointment with his dentist.

“I can already see the smile on your face!” The man exclaimed into his mobile. “Missing you like crazy, Lou.”

If he thought he was done with the ‘conversation’ with Harry, he’d kill to get back to that awkward space right about then. Fuck, he’d much rather have rusted nails shoved into his eyeballs than expose himself to hearing that incredibly annoying, nasal voice of Martin Hulley, Aaron Tomlinson’s personal assistant and, for whatever reason, a close friend.

It must’ve been around a decade this guy was tainting young Tomlinson’s day-to-day life, hired as a first male secretary after a streak of relatively short-lived business relationships with young women, who usually were gone as soon as they got the wrong idea about the strictly sexual relationships the busy entrepreneur let happen, deeming dating a waste of time. And he stuck around, that pain in the teen’s ass that with his forced excitement that ruined Lou’s mood every time they’ve talked over the phone, more often than not caused truly homicidal thoughts to spark in the boy’s head.

What was even worse, was the fact that being some sort of mediator between the boss and his child, it was Martin whom Louis, exactly like now, had to deal with whenever pops wanted something from him. “Do you fuck his broads for him too? Might as well if you’re already raising his kid.” Bitter scoff travelled across the states to New York. “If he had the balls to send me off, he can call if he wants something from me.”

And with that brief exchange, the call was done, the receiver, despite the urge to rip it out and literally hang himself on the cable, was carefully hung back on the hook.

“What a fucking joke.” His mutter reached absolutely nobody, at least that’s what he thought. Infuriated to the point where he wanted to scream, punch a hole in the diligently wallpapered wall and possibly die, all at the same time, he only closed his eyes and let the emotions be released with a deep exhale, one concluding just in time not to clash with another ring of the phone.

“Louis speaking.” He could imagine that the introduction was unnecessary as he sort of knew who he was going to hear on the other side, Martin persisting in the task that was laid on him by his boss.

“Louis.” The voice on the other side was a familiar one, though not in the way he expected it to be. It couldn’t be! The boy really just should go and get himself a lottery ticket because, never before, had been reaching his father so easy. The teen scoffed into the phone, in disbelief that this was even happening to him, ruining his whole day more like, just after he came back from that pleasurable hangout with Anne. “Just wanted to check how you were doing.”

“No.” Something almost hysteric in his voice as he disregarded his father’s claim. “You felt like you should check in on me. There is a difference.” Eyes rolling to the back of his skull, he stomped his right foot onto the second one to ground himself because he felt like he was in a nightmare. “After three weeks, father of the year!” 

“Don’t be dramatic, Louis.” There it was, his favourite catchphrase. “Country life getting the best of you already?” Amusement made it through the line, not matching Lou’s hostility, so out of place in the tone of their conversation.

“You don’t get to do this.” He swallowed the lump that swell in his throat, unwilling to give his dad the satisfaction. “You don’t get to send me off to some strangers without a dollar to my name and pretend as if this is some sort of fun vacation adventure I chose for myself.”

“You know exactly why you are where you are, Louis.” If he could teleport, he would do it right about then, just punch his father for the first time in his life, and teleport back.

“Because I am young and you hate it. Yeah, I know.”

“Always so skilled with twisting the story.” A deep chuckle vibrated against the teen’s ear, something he couldn’t say was familiar, which was rather depressing.

“I’m not twisting shit.” He opposed. “Do you see me dying right now? No, I’m not some sort of fucking junkie you see me as. Isn’t that enough of confirmation for you?”

Fuck no, it was not. Just as the tests he took so frequently, back-to-back ever since he was busted, were not. “Because you don’t have money for it.”

“I don’t have money for a shampoo, to the point where I have to think over whether I really need to shower everyday, which, of course, I fucking do, slathered with mud and cow shit.” He felt the container with pie trembling with his hands, breathing heavy despite the hardest efforts to keep it sound. “You sent me off to these… strangers…” The word felt weird on his tongue when it rolled off it, the people he lived with now, closer to him than his own father. “Cutting me off before I could even buy myself the bare minimum, and expect me to what? Happily tell you the stories of how much fun I’m having here? I’m not. It’s not fun looking like a fucking fourteen-year-old again because I’ve ran out of my acne prescription, though I doubt you even know how that would look like, I don’t think I’ve even seen you that year.”

Deeming whatever else was coming after that redundant to his already shaken psyche, he slammed the receiver onto the rack, just like he wanted to do previously but didn’t have a proper reason to. Now he had, that’s for sure.

Don’t judge him, yeah? Perhaps now, after that phone call, he looked more responsible for the complicated relationship he had with father than he previously made it seem. There was more than likely some truth to it, more than he would like to admit, but that brief chat was a result of built-up anger he had no outlet for. Years of neglect from his own dad, more detrimental to his psyche than he ever wanted to make it seem, added to the growing frustration caused by the whole Harry debacle, a feeling he couldn’t deny no matter how hard he tried, was all too much for him to handle. That’s why he broke, later than he expected himself to.

Standing near the phone for a minute or two, getting his unaffected demeanour back on, the teen counted his own breaths, diligently performing breathing exercises he was once taught at therapy. He barely managed to get his respiration back to normal, when a murmur of someone’s shoe scuffing the wooden floor startled him more than it should have, especially considering that the sound was barely detectable.

“Shit.” He heard, hushed from the same direction as the initial sound. Once Lou’s eyes fell on the brunette man, stood tall by the entrance, their eyes locked, the teen putting all his anger in that single gaze.

“Still not talking to me, huh?” The bitterness of that mocking was further amplified by the thunderstorm that was going on in his head.

There it was, that staple groove in between Styles’ eyebrows, indicative of the fact that he was thinking, hard. “Am I not talking to you now?” Jackpot, playing dumb not what the teen expected but holy shit. 

“Hilarious.” The Tupperware with the pie was thrown onto a console standing under the phone, Louis not wasting a second as he spun on the heel of his foot and stormed out through the back door.

The feeling of wetness filling his eyes was humiliating, which only resulted in more of the same thing getting supplied until the first tear fell onto his cheek. Squeezing his lids closed, he swept his shame away with the very top of his hand and headed to one place he could think of at the moment.

SIX. Six hours he spent in the stables, suspended in the calming presence of his favourite animals that, no matter how beneficial were for him, still haven’t completely rid of the anger that was built up in him when he arrived. What was then an aggressive boil, now a gentle simmer that kept him on the edge even after he had to part with the horses he already led out to the pasture.

Laying on his back on the mountain of hay beneath him, he tried to keep his thoughts as empty as possible. He felt the contracting of his stomach, violent rumbling in his gut that accompanied him for quite a while now, but he ignored it, not all that interested in what was happening to him physically at the moment.

There was still an hour or so he would have to wait out in the barn before he could go back to the house without risking stumbling into Ada, who surely would ask about the reason why he skipped dinner without saying anything. There was no reason… well, there was, though it would make him look like a hysterical child so he’d rather keep it to himself.

He slapped his forearm, another missed shot at the mosquito that has been taunting him ever since he laid down, clueless as to what he should do with his time. It stung for a bit until it didn’t, and he forgot about the prickle altogether, having too much on his plate right now to worry about things like that.

If he was asked when exactly, between slapping himself and waking up, he managed to doze off, he wouldn’t have that answer to give. But it happened, must have since he felt himself waking up. Rubbing fists over his eyes, he wondered how long he’s been asleep, but nothing in his proximity carried that information, the sky just as black as it was when he fell asleep, not even a wristwatch to tell him the time.

But there was something that could tell him, somebody more like. Louis only realised he wasn’t alone when he heard something shuffle behind him, startling the shit out of him as his first thought was a wild animal. Whatever it was that he expected to see there, an owl, raccoon maybe, Harry was near the bottom of that list, only Jesus Christ himself lower than him, perhaps not even that.

“So you’ve changed your mind?” The rasp of Harry’s voice indicated that it wasn’t used for a while, which made a lot of sense because silent Harry was sort of the new routine.

“About what?” Louis asked, sleepy wooziness making him disregard the newly created resolution of treating the man like the air around him.

“Sleeping here.”

For one reason or another, most likely the sentiment, still very much present in the teen’s head, Louis hasn’t bolted out of there immediately. “I was hiding.” He admitted, too tired of being angry to get himself all worked up again. “Guess I was just as successful as with everything else, yay me.”

“Hiding from what?” The overlooking of that self-deprecation was strange, something Harry hasn’t really done all that much before.

“Ada, Frank...” Louis scoffed, sitting up because he just knew he looked atrocious from the angle he was being looked at. “You, mostly.” His own honesty ran a cold shiver down his spine. He knew he shouldn’t even talk to him, but he was a weak man, a lonely one at that. With however many days of that exhausting silence he had ahead of him, he couldn’t bring himself not to talk to Harry.

The silence his confession met with was confusing. With thousands upon thousands of positions in his vocabulary, the catalogue filling more and more with every book he devoured, poems he read, it was rare for this man not to know what to say, but that seemed to be happening now. Either that, or he just didn’t want to speak, but that would be a rather stupid claim to make when he literally made an effort to find Louis there and wait till he wakes up.

Sure, maybe finding him wasn’t all that hard, the lightbulb the teen lit when he got there, hasn’t exactly engulfed his whereabouts in much secrecy. Still, Louis knew that Styles wouldn’t even try to find him a day ago, and the reason why, so very obvious, filled the boy with a strange mix of anger, embarrassment and a pinch of trepidation.

“Do you want me to go?” Harry asked, the shuffling of his silhouette, rather audible with how noisy the dry hay was, sent a spark of something eerily tasting like panic through the boy who even as conflicted as he was, knew that the answer to this question was negative, no doubts about that. The resentment he held for all these days he was left to fend for himself clashed with undeniable desire to just go back a week in time, learn what he’s done wrong and just not do it.

It was never a mystery that he was not the one to cherish solitude and thrive on his lonesome. He wasn’t a big people person either, falling somewhere in between where he liked to keep his circle relatively small but hated the moments where he was all alone. That was the reason why this whole situation weighed quite heavily on him, that and a dozen other things that crashed down on his head with that godawful call he received from his father.

In moments like that, Louis missed his friends a lot. Missed Ryan, who would bash his father along with him even if the two haven’t even met. He missed Vanessa, who was his shoulder to cry on if he ever felt like doing that. Most of all, he missed Xavier, the idiot he met in second grade, the friendship going on for all these years despite the two being as different as it got.

Harry would do, obviously, just as he sufficed previously. Problem was that he evidently did not feel like doing that, that week, now coming to an end, showed quite explicitly that this was the case.

“Since when do you ask me for an opinion?” Less anger filling Lou’s words than he expected, still some present, detectable even with the mocking smirk on his lips.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t act stupid…” He drew through his teeth. “I don’t know, let me think…” Fingers pinched his chin to overact that thoughtful demeanour. “When you decided you didn’t want to hang out anymore? Or was my angle redundant because it surely doesn’t concern me?”

“This is more complicated than you think it is.” That playful edge to his tone from a minute or so ago fully disappeared, voice stripped from any emotion whatsoever.

“You always say that.” Louis’ eyes stuck to a stray piece of twine hanging off a nail in the wall, desperately pretending that he was just there, all alone, throwing words in the air. “And it never is nearly as complex as you want to make it seem.”

“This is different.”

“Different how?”

“Different in ways I cannot disclose.”

“Then go fuck yourself.” His teeth clenched, the tip of the tongue between the front ones, stopping him from a childish outburst that Harry, taking all things under consideration, hasn’t exactly deserved. Of course, he was mad at him, but most of his hostility wasn’t even aimed at the brunette.

The body behind the teen moved again, longer, more decided drags of limbs over the hay indicative that he was going to obey the plea. “Do you need money?”

Yep, there it was. No matter how foolishly the boy tried to convince himself that Harry hadn’t heard him talking with his father, there really was no way he hadn’t. That nosiness wasn’t even something Lou could be mad at him about, knowing that he’d do the same thing if their places were switched.

“No.” His stubbornness pushed out, the answer accepted with a nod from a guy that only just then entered Lou’s peripheral vision.

One last look, as if he was waiting to be stopped, and Harry jumped down the cliff onto the lower level, another shuffle of the hay after the second jump, followed by heavy steps leading out of the barn.

Always claiming not to be the one to cry easily, he sure as fuck has made this statement hard to support on that particular day. Angry tears welled in his eyes before he rubbed them away and closed his eyes, preventing other that were bound to return. He really needed therapy, desperately. There had to be a name for whatever the hell was this thing he was struggling with.

Was that really what Harry stayed late for? To ask him if he needed to borrow money? Sure, there was never really a strict schedule or anything of that sort but, especially with Louis being the one who led the horses out to the paddock in the evening, there was no reason for Styles to linger after he was done with his duties. And that’s what usually happened, which was why it was so weird to see him around so late in the day.

As hard as it was to believe that he was the sole reason holding Harry back, Louis had a hard time coming up with anything else that would make sense. Confused, pissed and quite famished at that, he slid off the mountain of hay with far less grace than his predecessor, already making his way out of the building when he caught a second silhouette in the corner of his eye.

Nonchalantly leaning over one of the beams supporting the construction, stood a man who was already believed to be gone, or at least, on his way out of the farm. Hands shoved into the pockets of a hoodie he was wearing, shoulders slouched carelessly, he pierced through the teen with his gaze as if he was waiting for something.

Whatever it was, it hasn’t happened, Tomlinson wholly disregarding the guy’s presence, heading straight for the exit.

“Louis.” A deep voice boomed in the barn, stern and demanding attention. Attention Louis didn’t want to give him, but his whole body turned towards the man, subconsciously acknowledging the fact that he was the inferior one in that mix. “Come here.” The rasp quieter, softer in the warm air of the late evening, night maybe, depends on how you look at it.

Against the instinct that told him to comply, the teen hasn’t moved, head held high to give Harry a clear idea that he was not scared of him. Why would he be? He didn’t know, but that’s how he perceived the man’s stance, threatening.

“Grab it.” Harry followed with a second instruction, nodding his head at the axe, its blade secured in a piece of timber it was impaled in.

“And what, whack you in the head?” The joke confused him, thoughts hardly humorous in between all that mix of anger, slight panic and puzzlement.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t.” Harry’s lips bent in a smile, so familiar, yet very strange after not being seen for quite as long as it was hidden. “Smash some of these, then we’ll talk.”

And… yeah, Lou almost laughed at the idea of him chopping wood, full lumberjack style. Not his thing, not at all, he doubted if he had enough strength in his hands to break something bigger than a twig, not to mention splitting proper trunks into pieces.

Derision was loud and clear in his features as he stood unmoved. “Yeah… right.” He found himself scoffing. “Way to frame my murder for an accident.”

“I’m not plotting your murder. Are you plotting mine?”

He almost smiled at that, almost sighed at how stupidly familiar this demeanour was. “Yes, precisely. And you are distracting me.”

“I’m being serious.” Voice back to that dominant region, one Louis didn’t like because it reeked of authority, his least favourite thing on that planet. “You either do that or let me speak to you like an adult that you claim to be.”

Oh, wow… Once again, Harry Styles was putting him back in his place. As much as it infuriated him, it sort of felt soothing, just a reminder of how the things used to be between them.

“Now you think I’m an adult? When it’s convenient to you?”

“When have I not treated you like one?” Harry asked, genuine interest painted on his face.

“All the fucking time! Now! Talking down to me as if you own me or whatever.” Hysteria raised the pitch of his voice a few notches. “Look at me, I’m a big guy, so much better than you. Now you’re going to let me speak to you, dumb child!” Heavy gesticulation was spicing that purposefully lousy impression of the brunette.

Harry looked… horrified, honestly, not once thoughts of similar nature passed through his head. “You can always leave, I’m not holding you hostage.” Visibly calmer after being informed how he was perceived by the boy, he reassured Lou that he was, in fact, free to go if he desired, never in his life wanting to come off as patronising, threatening. “Louis, I…” And he broke off, rather fall silent than to say something wrong and add the fuel to that fire blazing in the teenaged boy, the heat of it almost palpable on his skin from the few feet that separated them.

“You what?”

“Let me explain myself.” Styles pleaded, rounding the boy in a few, careful steps before he relocated to the stray hay bale and sat on it.

“What happened to ‘I can’t talk about it’?”

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit anymore.”

And that… worked, miraculously. The teen, with strange fear to come so close, neared the same bale and jumped onto it, situating himself next to the brunette, eyes stuck to the axe in front of him.

“I don’t think you are a child. I never have.” The man started off, trying to gain himself some extra time because now that he had a chance he didn’t think he would get, he couldn’t think of what it was that he wanted to say. “If I had, I would’ve never kissed you.”

Fair. Louis catalogued that argument in the file of the somewhat viable ones, remaining silent. He almost forgot that it happened. Somehow, despite how big of a moment it was at the time, the turmoil he found himself in messed with his brain a bit.

“Me staying so…” A deep sigh served as a pause he needed to dig up a word he shouldn’t have forgotten but somehow has. “Distant.” The brunette stressed, absentmindedly tugging on the tread sticking out in his pocket. “This was not me abandoning you, not at all.”

“Your definition clashes with the one in my dictionary then.” Louis remarked even if he planned on staying silent, bitterness pushing words out of him.

“Well, yeah. It’s just… this is not about you, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“’ It’s not you, it’s me.’ from somebody I haven’t even slept with? Now that has to be a first.” If Harry was to be believed, Louis could just walk away from that stupid conversation that, with how it currently looked like, led to absolutely nowhere, right? He hasn’t though, maybe a bit curious what other clumsy attempts at explaining himself Harry was going to make.

He could see, in the very corner of his eye how Styles shuffled nervously, digging with the tip of his shoe in the ground, so absolutely flustered. Louis maybe even pitied him for a split second before he remembered that he brought this on himself with the behaviour he tried to explain, but couldn’t.

Harry swallowed thick, tilting his head back as if God was going to help him right now. “This is a small town.” He murmured, the words taking all of his energy on their way out.

“Haven’t noticed.” Lou mocked him, sourcing some strange satisfaction from being cruel to him, repaying for the days he was on the other side of that equation.

That hasn’t phased the brunette who forbid himself from getting distracted by these snarky remarks that he knew Louis had a whole catalogue of. “People talk. And when somebody sees two guys getting maybe a bit too comfortable around each other, the whole town is going to know by the end of the same day.”

REALLY? Louis couldn’t believe that gossip was the reason why he was abandoned, Styles’ claims that this was not the case haven’t exactly warped the reality for the boy to change his mind.

“You’re joking.” The shorter one accused, already scuffing his foot on the ground, getting ready to leave. Was this how little he was worth to that guy? Being dropped because his beloved old ladies might get a wrong idea that he’s fucking another dude? It wouldn’t be so ridiculous if the rumours were completely unfounded, the kiss Harry pointed out before, clearly showing that there was some truth to them.

“I wish I was.”

“So? What is this whole thing for if nothing’s going to change?” Tomlinson inquired, arms crossed on his chest. “I would rather not know that this was the reason.”

“What if I don’t want it to stay like that?”

“And since when does my opinion matter exactly?” Having already too much on his plate as it was, Louis took off, walked away how he planned all this time, but this time he followed through.

Like that annoying splinter that Louis couldn’t, for the life of his, get out from under his skin, Harry stuck with him all the way to his room and then some on top of that. Maybe ten minutes have passed since he gave up on that particular conversation, and that was still all that occupied his damned thoughts.

As far as it was probably the worst possible hiding location, he sort of hoped he would blend into the night, make it the accomplice that would cover him where he sat on the top of the roof above the porch.

Of course, there really wasn’t all that many places he could’ve been so late in the evening, hence why he locked himself in when he got to his room. He’s had enough for the day, week or maybe month even, his eyes were practically falling closed without him prompting them to do that. Sleep was all he needed at the moment, that’s why he had no fucking clue why he was even sitting there instead of shutting down for the night.

Maybe it was Harry. Perhaps he wanted to make sure he’s gone before he lets himself finally relax. Obviously, there was no way he left unnoticed, not in that truck of his that was decades overdue for retirement, so he must’ve been plotting something, right? Especially now that the thuds of the axe chopping lumber have subsided from the sudden outburst that broke out the second he left the barn.

“Speak of the fucking devil.” Louis whispered to himself the second Harry emerged from the darkness, dragging his feet over the dirt, heading straight for the truck. 

“Go to sleep, Louis. It’s way too late for that.” His voice sounded like a blearing shout when, in reality, it was just his normal speaking tone, amplified by the silence all around.

Wondering how in the hell has Harry ever seen him, his eyes seemingly stuck to the ground as he walked, Louis blurted out some gibberish. It didn’t really matter, he wouldn’t have heard him even if he cared enough to use actual words, already sat behind the wheel of his car. And then, with a truly offensive roar of the engine that tore the night in two, he was gone.

As stubborn as Harry was, he knew when a battle was lost. He didn’t even need the dark shadows under the boy’s eyes to know that Louis was exhausted, and throughout these three weeks he got to know him… well, two, the last one didn’t really count, Styles learned that tired Louis was not a Louis anybody should piss off.

So, he let go… for the night. There was no way he was giving up just yet. Absolutely not, even if he knew that Lou had all the reason to be mad at him. With that in mind, he needed to get at least some sleep, so he could get back early in the morning and tackle this predicament he was entirely responsible for. Whatever it takes, honestly. That’s what felt right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late with the chapter, the school was a mess this week so I couldn't get a moment to proof read and correct it.  
> Hope you've enjoyed it even if it's late. Please comment, kudos, share with a friend, I live off of stranger's validation.  
> Keep tight :)


	11. Chapter 11

“Where in my whole tirade have I said that we were okay again?” A sharp exhale was pushed out of the teen’s lungs, his attempts at not seeming nearly as exhausted as he was were failing. “I know I was tired, but I’m sure I would’ve remembered.”

And of course, Harry didn’t care, just as he ignored what felt like a thousand other similar remarks from Louis, spat out with fierce stubbornness to make it clear that he was not okay with the brunette’ tagging along’ for the bike ride, which really was just straight-up following Tomlinson around since he never consented to any of this.

“You haven’t said no either.” That chuckle, that damned chuckle. The most infuriating thing Louis had to deal with ever since he woke up, three hours later than he would just a week ago. When the whole ordeal with Harry went south, the teen deemed himself his own boss, a lenient one at that. His schedule has become looser, especially since he didn’t really have all that many chores to complete as it was.

Distracted with all that anger constantly simmering inside of him, Louis’ brain decided that he didn’t really need proper control over his muscles, motor skills suffering to the point where his foot slid off the pedal, nearly landing him face-down on the ground. He prevailed, miraculously remedying the situation with God’s blessing because he couldn’t believe he was this coordinated. 

Thankfully enough, Styles was ahead of him, so he couldn’t have seen the whole debacle play through, but he surely could hear what happened, his head twisting back to check in on a friend who was yet to regain complete control over his bike. “Good, are we?” The man inquired, a smug smirk on his lips was showing that he was well aware of the ambiguity of that question.

“I am fine.” The boy emphasised the pronoun he so very carefully chose, leaving no place for uncertainty, no wiggle room for Harry to squeeze himself into with the favourable narrative he was so desperate to achieve. 

“I don’t know what you were thinking. I hate you even more now.” Louis groaned, the sound deeper than he ever thought he could produce. The sigh that followed clashed with the previous one in its lightness, carried away with the barely-there wind that as pleasant as it was now, worked to their disadvantage when they were making their way uphill. 

The surge of relief almost made him moan, the cold water of the river he just now let his sore feet sink into easing the pain his falsely advertised trainers caused, far from suitable for exactly what they were supposed to be used for. If he was not that bothered with Harry being around earlier, now he would call himself slightly aggravated, that man the only reason why his usual leisurely stroll turned into… that. 

“I suspected this is a bit more challenging than you usually go for, but you have to admit, this is something.” His hand motioned towards the view stretching in front of them. 

He was not going to comment on that. As much as he didn’t want to admit that he was in awe of the landscape, he couldn’t exactly deny either… well, he could, but he would be lying. So, he stayed silent, reaching his hand sideways to grab the mobile Harry used a moment prior to snap a few pictures for whatever reason. 

His bold behaviour met with a look he got from Styles, nothing really punishing in it, just a neutral one, one Lou did not appreciate at all. “Can I use it?” He decided to ask, even though he was already halfway done with typing his website of choice into the browser.

“Of course, you can.” Harry scoffed as if as little as a thought of Tomlinson not being permitted to invade his privacy like that was ridiculous. 

Going back to his business, the teen typed in the login to his bank account, in the corner of his eye seeing that he was still being stared at. “WHAT?” His voice was just the right amount of pointed where he didn’t seem gravely annoyed, but not pleased either.

Louis didn’t expect the brunette to be phased, that’s why it wasn’t surprising that he was not. To the contrary, really, a fond smile made it onto Styles’ lips, chin propped on the elbow as he was still staring, weirdly enough, even more ostentatiously than previously and that was quite an achievement since the younger guy didn’t even think that was possible.

“What?” Harry inquired, regarding the smug smirk that bent Lou’s lips, not the question he was just asked, a stupid one if he was to be honest. 

“Nothing.” The chuckle was very unlike Louis, at least the version of him Harry got the chance to interact with lately. It was an appreciated change, one that even further deepened the grin on Styles’ face. So they were smiling at each other, until they weren’t, Louis breaking out of that exchange, stubbornly forcing his own expression back into his staple, unbothered one. 

Harry shuffled to his knees, pulling the phone out of Lou’s hands, hurling the thing into the grass behind the boy, whose hands were now free for him to catch in his. “What the hell are you doing?” Tomlinson asked, rather justifiably confused about the whole thing. But Harry hasn’t budged, too tired of this whole thing to back down so easily. If that was what he would have to do, beg on his knees, he was going to.

“Louis whateveryourmiddlenameis Tomlinson.” His eyes were pinned to the blues staring back at him, long fingers still clasping the dainty hands of his friend’s. “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?” 

Still. That’s how Lou’s face remained, an unpleasant surprise because Harry sort of got his hopes up that this could be resolved if he made a fool of himself. “This is not a joke for me.” Dead-serious, Lou declared, struggling his fingers out of the grip. As tight as it was, it eased completely when the farmer realised that his pal wasn’t on board with this touch. 

“I am not joking.” The dark brunette locks atop his head shook, adding a visual to better his chances at getting his message through to Louis. “I’m just trying to win my pal back.” With the newfound freedom of his hands, he decided to assign them a new task, so he didn’t go crazy. There wasn’t much thought to what he did, and he took into consideration the chances of getting punched, but still placed both of his thumbs in the corners of Lou’s lips and pulled them upwards. “Come on, don’t torture me anymore.” 

The boy didn’t let himself get distracted by the dimples and the hopeful glimmer in the eyes staring at him, pleading him for forgiveness. He wanted to tell Harry to fuck the right off, just out of principle rather than actual wrath, but to be honest, he was just as tired as Harry seemed to be, maybe even more than him, rightfully so.

That’s why he stayed still, complied instead of pushing the man away when his lips were let go of, only to be caught right back, only by another pair of lips, plushy ones, a pair Louis knew already, though the re-introducing was nice in itself. Of course, he couldn’t just give up this easily, not him, hell no! So, washing his hands off some of the blame, his lips stayed unanimated as he let himself be kissed but, for the record, hasn’t kissed back.

At least until Harry pulled back, hesitant in his boldness as a result of the indifference he met with. Against all logic, the parting scared Louis, apparently more willing to continue than he wanted to make it seem like he was. Then it was over, and as much as he was sure he was bound to break at some point, he thought he would last a bit more, at the very least, save some of his dignity.

Let’s just say his dignity and that idiotic belief that it was exactly what was at stake, were playing second fiddle at the moment. Perhaps still mildly irritated, he let himself pull Harry closer with the hand he hasn’t even noticed he let rest on the nape of the man’s neck, and gave back the kiss, letting his eyes fall close to fully give in to it.

He never denied that maybe he was waiting for that to happen ever since he was kissed for the first time. With days that passed, he fully lost hope it would, so maybe the whole unexpectedness of it all made him so pliant. 

Soft. This was how Harry’s lips felt, warm and soft, everything Styles, at first glance, was not. But his lips were tender, and the fingertips he now grazed Lou’s face with were too, so unmatching the rugged impression the farmer made on Tomlinson when they’ve met for the first time. 

And again, they were rather tame, neither yet confident enough to try to add a tongue into the mix. It was better like that, to be frank, adding that layer of innocence to the kiss that seemed big, for whatever reason. With Harry’s hands covering the majority of the face of a boy he was kissing, the fervent breaths he gulped when they slipped away from each other only to cling back together, it didn’t seem like an apology. Well… That too maybe, but it didn’t feel like it was the primary premise behind the whole incident.

And when they finally pulled away, Louis fully expecting to see the sun gone even if it was maybe two when they’ve made it to the top of the hill. Harry was grinning at him, and then he wasn’t, the suspense of Lou’s next move stripping him away from at least some of the excitement, still very much present in the rapid beating of his heart, the faint echo of rushing blood still audible in his ears.

The teen had more difficulty deciding what to say after that than he thought he ever would. Of course, preoccupied with something else, he didn’t exactly get the chance to prepare something. But Harry was still on his knees, eyes so hopeful, Louis almost cursed himself out for dragging this moment out more than it was necessary. And then, he fell back on earth again, freshly regained memory reminding him why they even found themselves in the place they were in now, and he might have stopped caring all that much about what Harry felt at the moment. It’s not like the brunette cared for his feelings for the past week.

He let himself fall back onto the grass, eyes closed as he took a gulp of the air that finally hasn’t smelled like the farm, the freshest one Louis might have had a chance to breathe in… ever, really. Quiet, focused on the phantom tingling on his lips, he kicked his feet in the water, holding back a giggle once a piece of algae of some sort slipped in between his toes, tickling his skin.

Maybe it wasn’t the best moment to ask, but it’s not like he had anything else to say, so, with his face still as relaxed as it ever got, he went for it. “Can I borrow your car?”

If his eyes weren’t closed, he would’ve seen the mocking smirk on his friend’s face. But he didn’t, which was maybe for the better, God knows he would get offended again. 

“What for?” Harry asked, already having an answer to Lou’s question, one that couldn’t really be influenced by anything the boy had to say. 

“To drive somewhere.” The scoff, unexpectedly powerful, sent a flock of birds flying, loud fluttering of their wings causing a pause in the conversation. “As one would often do with a car…”

Styles completely disregarded the mocking that wasn’t hard to pick up on. Shifting his body towards the view stretching ahead of him, he stuck his eyes to a trunk of a rotten maple tree across the river, though that was a big word to use for that rather slim brook Louis was now bathing his sore feet in. “Can you even drive?” 

“I have a license.” 

“I didn’t ask whether you had a license. I asked if you could drive.” Harry’s eyes rolled to the heavens above in reaction to his friend’s attempt at dodging his question like that. “The truck’s stick, mind you that.”

This… complicated things. If Louis was rather a lousy driver, though considering himself capable enough to stay on the road and not crash, he hasn’t driven stick in his life. “I’m sure I’d get a hang of it.” Confidence was key, right? Maybe not in that case though… not when his cockiness could land him in a morgue. 

“I should be insulted.” Harry’s bitter chuckle hung around them. “You really thought I would ever let you borrow it?”

“I didn’t think you would, no.” Yeah, the odds were never in his favour, were they? 

“Say a word and I’ll drive you wherever.” 

There was no clear answer to the question whether it was the guilt that made Harry offer to give Louis a ride or his rather heavily documented selflessness, but there they were, roaming around the shelves of the closest CVS. It must’ve been good five minutes the teen was screening the labels of every shampoo that even somehow hinted at being natural, acting as if he had any clue what he was doing, using an article he googled on Harry’s phone as a guide.

“There’s volumising, anti-dandruff, clarifying, hair-loss, moisturising, all-in-one… Isn’t all-in-one the best one if it does everything?” Harry named every type he spotted, something endearing in his childish naivety towards the scams behind claims these cosmetics made. “There’s one for coloured hair, your hair isn’t coloured, is it?” 

“It is not.” Louis answered, putting back another bottle after he found in the ingredients something that the website deemed criminally damaging to hair. Sure, he only now acted like some kind of haircare expert with his big words from the blog he stumbled upon, most of which he wouldn’t even know how to pronounce if he tried. Take his phone away, and he’s just as clueless as Harry was. “Which one do you think I need?” He asked, a smirk slowly creeping onto his lips, mostly hidden in the tilt of his head as he still read through the labels, all of them the fucking same, good seventy percent of lists contained literally the same shit.

He would’ve never thought that shopping for shampoo could be nearly as exhausting as this was. Deprived of his usual choice, one his hairdresser recommended when he was maybe fifteen years old, a brand, that as he just learned, wasn’t nearly as good as he was told it was, he tried to get something at least decent. But then, there was only so much selection in a chain drugstore, and he was struggling.

“This would be good for you.” The man shook a truly bizarre bottle, one that would rather scare a customer away with the poor graphic design than convince anybody to purchase the product. “It’s for lice.” He winked, putting the bottle back onto the very top shelf. 

“Someone’s forgetting they’re on a very thin ice.” The hum was soft, far from threatening, almost getting lost in the annoying melody pumped through the speakers, one that, due to a documentary the teen once watched about mind-boggling practices retailers were using, was probably playing on his mind already, making sure he buys something he doesn’t even need.

“This one has weed in it.” Harry completely disregarded the remark about his very fragile relationship with Louis, reading through the label of a shampoo he was now holding. “Washing your hair? Might as well get high, I guess.” He put the bottle back, discrediting the candidate when he saw a forbidden ingredient at the very top of the list.

Louis was almost sure Harry wasn’t dumb enough to think that anybody would allow putting narcotics into shampoos, but he still found himself correcting him, maybe trying to flex a bit. “It doesn’t work like that, Harry.”

“Oh, I know.” What a relief. “Imagine if it did though. Hell, I’d switch brands even.”

“Because you’re such a pothead?” Tomlinson scoffed, unaware of his friend’s rather lenient opinion on weed. He sighed deeply, reacting to a chuckle he elicited from Harry with that question. “Pothead… shampoo. I know, hilarious.” But he still smiled at how little it took to humour the brunette.

“Jackpot.” Harry whispered and put two bottles of his staple shampoo-conditioner combo that probably consisted of every forbidden ingredient on Lou’s list. “Look how easy it is.” He boasted about his incredible shopping speed.

“All my hair would fall out if I used this.” Louis claimed, knowing there was not much truth to that. Still, he did not intend on testing that theory, finally putting a bottle he deemed better of two evils he was considering. “It’s only you who can use literal garbage on your hair and still have it look good.”

That was the truth. Unfair, depressing truth. Harry… he did not pay too much attention to what he used in his rather minimal grooming routine, and yet he looked like… that. With a bar of Ivory soap and a bottle of Suave in the shower, he had no right to look like that. Maybe it was God repaying for his devoted church attendance and the kindness which personification the man seemed to be. Whatever it was, it was simply not fair.

“Is it bad that I want to buy this for you?” The teen asked, tracing the tip of his index finger over the lettering on the front of a bottle of shaving foam, one that spelt Harry’s, which was a brand of which existence he was aware of before, though it wasn’t relevant ever before.

The brunette shook his head and tossed a pack of the blades for his safety razor into the basket, a tin of shaving gel following. “The fact that you are rich again, doesn’t mean you should waste your money like that. It is twice the price just for packaging.” 

“I knooow.” Louis moaned, putting the can back onto the shelf, catching up to his friend who already walked away to decrease the chances of his pal doing what he said he wanted to do. “It would look so good in the bathroom though.” 

Would it really? Absolutely not. Nothing would better the horrid relic of the seventies that their bathroom was with partially cracked seafoam green tiles that almost made Lou’s stomach convulse the second he laid his eyes on them the day he arrived. It wasn’t necessary to say that he was guilty of the exact crime Styles accused him of. What could he do? He was a sucker for packaging. Maybe the case would be different if he was spending his own, hard-earned money. Perhaps he would be just as reluctant to pamper himself as Harry was, but he never was in this position, so, with the money he earned by one minute of guilting his father, he wouldn’t mind splurging, even if on the entire routine of Harry’s to thank his friend for… whatever. Companionship maybe? The ride? Whatever it was, Tomlinson’s mood was quite transformed ever since they’ve made up.

But they haven’t actually made up, at least that’s what the younger guy insisted on, all too aware that this was a bunch of bull, his behaviour now showing that as explicitly as it was possible.

“It wouldn’t.” The man argued, covering the contents of their shared basket with a ten-pack of his unscented soap, therefore concluding their shopping adventure. “Besides, my mom shares this truly ridiculous admiration for clever packaging, and she picked up a few things for me before. it did not end well.”

“How can a bottle of body wash not end well?” Lou inquired, half absent as he was now proving the point of that elevator-style music, tossing bags upon bags of snacks into the basket.

“I think I’m allergic to their fragrance.” Harry explained, picking up a pack of honey roasted peanuts, heading for the register before Louis had a chance to blow everything he was given on food. “Gillette would never break me out like that damn foam did.” 

“I give up.” Louis sighed, heading straight for self-checkout, deeming himself not suitable for human interaction both in appearance and mood. The hostility caused by exhaustion gave clearance only to Harry, which was bizarre since Styles was the very person who wore him out like that. Oh well, he wasn’t going to ponder over it too much. And why he wasn’t, was because he didn’t want to acknowledge that he missed their dumb chats. “You are hopeless.” 

Scanning their items together before Styles could notice that half of his stuff was already in the bagging area, mixed with Lou’s things, the teen cursed these fucking shoes that he, for some idiotic reason, decided to stay in after their bike ride. Reminded of the pain he conditioned his brain to ignore, he grabbed a pack of blister patches hanging just above Skittles, and scanned them quickly, thinking that he would need these later. 

After spending far less than he would have if he went for his usual shopping location, both bags he filled carried by Harry who hasn’t even given him a chance to get at least one, they quickly headed for the truck, trying not to inconvenience the employees any further since it was almost closing time when they were finished.

“Where’s the receipt?” Harry inquired as he was buckling himself in.

It took three solid blinks, Lou unaware of how this translated into an actual measure of time before he caught the secret motive behind the question. Unsticking the chewed-up gummy worm from his teeth with a tip of his tongue, he shrugged. “Is it not in the bag?” Harry’s head shook, answer negative, not that it was a mystery to the younger guy. “Maybe I never took it then.” He declared and went back for his snacks. “Open up.” The instruction was a bizarre one on the parking lot of a pharmacy, a few other cars surrounding the truck, but Styles did follow the instructions, a sour worm shoved into his mouth by Lou, who was just now getting to putting his seatbelt on.

The teen could see that the lack of the receipt inconvenienced Harry, who, as expected, turned out to be that guy, one that would not rest before all his dues were paid off. Hell, Louis was pretty sure this was not the end of that story, but he let himself get distracted with the candy he was chowing down on while he was driven back to the village.

Bored out of his mind, only halfway into the drive, Louis stole the idea for a game from a discussion of two radio host’s that concluded before Elton John’s Sacrifice started playing, almost lulling him to sleep. “What’s the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you?” He asked, tilting his silhouette towards his friend whose eyes stayed glued to the road ahead. 

“I… don’t think I have a story like that.” Harry lied, unsure whether the memory that flashed in his head, a story he was the most ashamed of would match the light-hearted character of the chat on the radio. No, he was sure. Sure it wouldn’t.

“You’re full of shit.” Louis called his bluff, but without a serious reason why he didn’t believe in Harry’s claim, there was not much he could do to get the truth out. 

With a shrug of his broad shoulders, lips pressed in a tight line, Styles bounced the ball back onto his companion’s pitch. “What’s yours then?” 

“Why would I tell you?” Bordering on offended, Tomlinson crossed hands on his chest, drilling holes in Harry’s profile with his gaze. “Does your mom know you are gay?” The question was pushed out of him by something evil, that must’ve been the case since as curious as he always was about that, it surely was one of the worst moments to ask.

“She does not.” The man admitted in a sigh, knowing that something in the shape of this conversation was bound to happen sooner or later. “Because I am not gay.”

Shuffling on his seat before folded legs were under him, Louis tilted his head to the side like a curious dog trying to make sense of what its owner was saying even if it sounded like a bunch of gibberish. “What are you then?” His hand almost flew to slap his stupid face for how closed-minded he sounded.

Once more, a shrug was the first response the teen got. “I don’t know.”

“How do you not know?” That was a first in Lou’s life. 

“Does everything have to have a name?” Something pensive shone on the brunette’s face, expression significant enough to be noticed in the darkness lit only by the flashback of the headlights. “I don’t really care, that’s all.”

“Fair.” Acknowledging the validity of whatever it was that Harry identified or hasn’t identified as was the least the teen could do after sounding like somebody’s conservative uncle dealing with a queer person for the first time at the Thanksgiving party. “Does she know then?”

The scoff, rather irritated one if Lou’s judgement was to be believed, surprised him. “Everybody does at this point.”

“How does one exactly come out to the entire village?” Amusement woven into his words was probably inappropriate, especially considering Styles’ previous reaction, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Wouldn’t know. It wasn’t something I got any say in.”

Now, the boy was intrigued. He felt like there was a story, a big one. “What do you mean?” 

The sigh hasn’t indicated anything good, though Lou didn’t know what exactly brought him to that conclusion. “It’s a long story. A humiliating one, I’d rather leave it in the past.” Aaand… he was right, wow.

Even with the curiosity getting the best of him, making him fidget in his seat, he couldn’t justify pressuring Harry into telling him whatever it was that he decided to leave him out of. Considering himself to be rather respectful, though that was an abuse of that word in his case, he dropped it.

“I fell for a girl once.” Louis declared out of nowhere, the two of them sat on the floor of his bedroom, ripping through the packaging of the various sweets they’ve brought from the CVS, sampling things and moving onto the next one.

He wasn’t sure what it was that propelled that confession out of him. It was not something he shared with a lot of people. Perhaps it was the silence he blamed himself for, Harry falling strangely quiet after the teen ruined the mood with his inappropriate inquisitiveness.

What he got in response was a curious look. It was really quite obvious that he was expected to elaborate, rightfully so, but Styles proved to be far more respectful than the teen has been before, not straight-up pressuring for the rest of the story.

“Sophomore in High School.” What was the point in starting if he wasn’t going to continue, yeah? 

“You have?” Even if there wasn’t clear evidence of disbelief, Tomlinson could imagine there was quite a bit of it. 

“It didn’t end… well.” A distraction from that confession came in the shape of a box of Cheez-its, he dove his whole hand into. 

“How come?” 

And of course, he didn’t understand. Apparently swinging both ways, how could he? At the time, falling for Rosemary, the girl he met around the same time he met Xavier, the genius that Louis Tomlinson was, convinced himself that perhaps he was bi. Newsflash: he was not, and that was established years before the whole thing transpired. It was really quite obvious that this pointless trial at a relationship was the sole reason why she, after years of the three of them being inseparable, found herself some new friends, coincidentally shortly after that doomed experiment failed, not that this was surprising.

Louis exhaled softly, swallowing the last of his crackers before he spoke, his eyes stuck on a stuffed animal hanging off the knob of the wardrobe door. “Guess.” He scoffed, a derisive smirk quirking the corners of his lips upwards. “We just weren’t… compatible, simple as that.”

He hasn’t even looked at Harry, suddenly strangely embarrassed about the thing he willingly confessed to, not even realising it was something that, four years later, still weighed quite heavy on him.

“Oh, okay.” Styles chuckled, trying to keep it as light-hearted as possible, sensing the slight change of the mood. “Is it really that different though?”

“You sound an awful lot like my friend back then.” Tomlinson joined in on the chuckle, just a bit soothed after seeing that he was not being judged. “That’s what I thought too but when push comes to shove… let’s just say that this was the only confirmation I ever needed.”

The taller one shifted his position, stretching himself on the floor behind Louis. “So… is this how the story ended?” Bolder, he inquired, absentmindedly grazing the side of his pal’s knee with the tip of his index finger.

“Technically, the story ended with me crying myself to sleep when she left and then her removing herself out of our friend group.” Years later, it was still difficult to tell this story, so one can only imagine how traumatic the actual event was. “Which I still think is quite a dramatic reaction to a guy not being able to make you cum.”

“Yeah, seems a bit extreme.” His arm bent around Lou’s waist, pulling him to the floor, so the teen’s head rested on his belly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ve improved since then.” The two of them shook from the chuckle Harry fell into.

“In making girls cum? Not really.” Louis smiled at the ceiling, tilting his head back to give better access to long fingers that now started creeping into his fringe, pulling his hair back with a gentle massage to his scalp. “You’re staying here tonight?” He inquired, secretly hoping for that to be the case since, to be completely honest, somehow their current position on the floor was far superior in the comfort factor over the mattresses topping either of the available beds. 

“No. Heading home soon.” Even if Louis didn’t want to ask, he was sure his eyes screamed why when he rolled onto his belly and planted his cheek on Harry’s chest, staring at him from that rather uncomfortable angle.

How unstable was he, really? Just a few hours ago, he contemplated drowning Harry in the river and then throwing him off a cliff just for good measure, and now he was all cuddled up to a man he claimed to hate just this morning. That really just goes to show how authentic his wrath towards Harry was.

Now, he would gladly ask him to stay if Styles wasn’t as definite in his answer as he seemed to be. Then, how desperate would he look if he did that? So, he didn’t… at least not out loud.

“Don’t give me that look.” Yeah, Harry caught it. The reaction was far from what the teen had expected. Instead of being laughed at, humiliated, he got a smirk in return, a fond one at that. “Gotta ease them into it a bit, yeah?” Still, with that smile on his face, he craned his neck to reach Lou’s lips, pecking them just barely so, only to let his head fall back to the floor.

“Why are you doing this?” Louis asked on an exhale, sitting back on his bum with knees curled to his chest. “Because if it’s just you pitying me, I swear to god…”

The silence that fell after that was the loudest one Louis has ever encountered, to the extent where the murmur of Harry’s silhouette shifting almost startled the boy who waited not-so-patiently for an answer to his rather vague question.

And then, the brunette was in front of him, his position reminiscent of his friend’s, though he seemed to have a bit of difficulty getting the stretch of his legs folded in the same manner. “Do what?” He asked, a deep frown was on his face as he scrutinised the impenetrable front Louis put on, one that Harry couldn’t say he’s ever seen, even when the two of them weren’t exactly cordial.

“All… this.” The boy motioned at Styles, who, with these words, kicked off something he hasn’t exactly done in the past, putting his knees on either side of Lou’s thighs, letting himself take a seat just like that. “You’re heavier than you look.” Louis commented, sending his brain information that everything is fine and he is not just in the process of getting crushed, though there was a fair share of uncertainty whether it was not the case.

Just as expected, Harry disregarded Lou’s remark about his weight… well, that was not completely true. He seemed to be amused, his expression hinting at it, at least. Resting his hands on the very edge of the bedframe Louis was leaning his back on, the teen’s head sandwiched between his toned arms, he ducked his head, taking the opportunity and kissing him again. Just to get his point across, he let himself linger a bit longer than he previously did, the feeling of Lou’s fingers on his waist giving him permission to go a bit further than he would before.

He smiled into it, the kiss unexpectedly gritty from the citric acid crystals that Louis didn’t get the chance to lick off his lips from all the sour gummies he consumed. “Mm… now that’s rather unusual.” The man hummed a comment about the taste on the boy’s lips, straightening his back to gain a few inches between their faces. “Why am I doing this?” The newly freed hands found their way to Lou’s face, thumbs rubbing circles on the peaks of his cheekbones, quickly moving to brush the feathery fringe back so he could get a better look at the boy. “I figured…” A smug smirk made it onto his face in the brief pause he took. “If I’m getting shit for it regardless… I might as well actually do it.” The shrug concluded his reasoning, strangely ill-fitting with the heftiness of that statement Louis hasn’t yet even completely comprehended.

Tomlinson’s eyebrows twitched in a furrow that smoothed in a second, followed by something sombre that clouded his expression when he felt the weight lifting off his legs. Physically, it was a relief, his thighs just slightly numb when Harry stood up, but he was sure he could endure a whole lot more of that pressure if it only meant the farmer would stay longer. It didn’t look like he would since now, he was stretching the stiffened limbs as he leaned to reach his phone off the floor, ruffling his friend’s hair with spread fingers on his way up, just a simple effort to get rid of that frown that set camp on the teen’s face. “It’s so late, Louis.” He willed the corners of his lips downwards, even if he wasn’t particularly disappointed in the situation he was now leaving, far exceeding all the expectations he had on his way to the farm just this morning.

“Goodnight…” Tomlinson sighed, still sat on the floor, surprised at his own neediness so evident in that unintentional question mark he put at the end of his farewell.

Harry’s head shook, a mocking smile on his lips as he crossed the short distance to the door, taking one last look as if he could pack it to-go. “Go to bed, come on.” He motioned at the unmade bed that was a staple element of that particular bedroom ever since Louis had overtaken it. “You’re lucky all that sugar is going to keep you going for the next three days. I’m already pitying myself.”

“You’re officially invited to my breakfast buffet then.” With a gesture of a hand, he swept all the part-eaten bags of candy thrown around the floor. “There’s still plenty to go around.”

“You’re saying that now.” Harry scoffed, very aware of how obvious his stalling was. “We both know I’d get kicked in the balls if I even tried to wake you up at the time I eat breakfast.”

And… yeah, there really was no use arguing this wouldn’t be the case if that happened. By the time morning came, Louis would have long forgotten how desperate he was for the company. Knowing that he’s correct in that assumption, Harry winked at his friend and left, soon after the roaring engine of the truck announced his late departure.

Louis felt… weird, that was a good word to use in his situation. His thoughts were scattered, rushing through his head, propelled with the heaps of sugar he deemed sufficient substitution for a proper meal to get him through the night.

A pained groan emerged from his gut when he got himself off the floor, the ache of his feet reminding of the events of the day that felt like it lasted forever, mostly due to the whole rollercoaster of emotions packed into these sixteen hours he was awake now.

Collecting all the evidence of his nutritional misdemeanour, not even bothering with properly folding the bags containing stuff that wouldn’t suffer if exposed to oxygen, he shoved his haul into one of the drawers that were left vacant after he put all of his stuff away.

The second bag, one that they didn’t care enough to unpack, consisted of the cosmetic part of their shopping, one that was the main reason why they even went to the pharmacy, but somehow managed to total less money than the treats did.

Sure, maybe Louis went a bit ham in the candy aisle, but it’s been the first time in quite a while when he could do exactly that, get whatever he felt like having without the necessity of pondering over every single item, doing math in the isles, evaluating whether that bag of Cheetos was really worth it.

See… as much as he wanted to claim that this was something he hasn’t realised would happen when he snapped at his father over the phone, there was really no way he could hide the secret motive behind that emotional outburst. It always worked. Whenever he would mention the horrible parenting he endured ever since his mother perished in the early years of his life, his father would feel guilty. The first time Louis made that connection, he was shocked that his dad was even capable of such authentic, human-like reactions, and then he started to exploit it.

It wasn’t coincidental that the second his balance would drop below three-digit numbers, he would start reminiscing out loud about all the times his father had let him down. With that, there was always a nice little sum of hush money transferred into his account. As much as younger Louis was offended that his pops thought this low of him, that a few hundred would be enough to erase years of emotional suffering and neglect, current Louis simply didn’t give a flying fuck about that anymore, maybe even leaning a bit towards agreeing with his dad on this one. Because really… It would be far less pleasurable being psychologically scarred with nothing on his bank account, right?

This time though, Aaron Tomlinson exceeded every expectation his son had towards him. When, just a day after that outburst, Louis opened his bank website to find a whole thousand added to the lousy few bucks he had left from the last time, he started contemplating whether an acting school wasn’t something he should shoot for.

If compared to the numbers that were flowing into his father’s bank accounts every month, that thousand seemed rather laughable, sure. But then, Louis was technically cut off until he leaves for San Francisco, so with that rather lengthy rant of his father’s how he needs to ‘learn to value money and his father’s hard work’ (quite interesting remarks coming from a guy who wears 10k suits just to sit his ass in home-office all day), that grand was a life-saving amount.

He’s gotten more before, once or twice, so that performance could’ve been better apparently, though he had an idea that his authenticity might have suffered without face-to-face contact. If he was that smart, conniving Louis that he was usually, that part of him clouded by actual emotions that took part in that particular tantrum, he would’ve started crying, or threatened suicide, but he hasn’t thought about that just then.

Or maybe he wasn’t all that good at acting, and his father was just completely out-of-touch with reality and thought he was giving his kid bare minimum to get through the rest of his vacation. That wasn’t all that hard to believe, to be honest.

With that freshly regained sense of security, sourced straight from the privilege of having spare money on his account, Louis kicked the second, still full bag of shopping under the bed, snagging only a toothbrush he picked up for himself since the one he got before was a rather lousy one. Equipped with this newly acquired symbol of luxury in the shape of an overly complicated toothbrush, he headed for the bathroom, aware that he was going to regret staying up this late.

But maybe he wasn’t going to regret after all. Grinning around the new brush, struggling to reach all the nooks and crannies with the head of it, he recalled all the reasons why exactly he wasn’t going to rue anything that happened to him that day, even the blisters from the chafing shoes possibly having their contribution in the reunion that landed him and Harry quite a bit closer than they were before their falling out.

Wrapping himself into the covers tightly, he both regretted that he didn’t have a phone and the absolute opposite. If he had one, he could right about now message Harry, which could be both a good and a bad thing. Even if he could make sure that Styles was all well and at home, texting would both prevent him from falling asleep and show how clingy he tended to be, which wasn’t something that he wanted to exhibit before they were past the point of no return.

To be fair… there was never a promise that something else was going to come from it, was there? Sure, Harry’s words could be interpreted as a hint, but nothing definite had fallen off either’s lips, so all he could do was wait and see how the things advance. As lonely as he got when he was left alone to fend for himself, he had his hopes up, even if he knew that it wasn’t rational for them to go deeper into whatever it was between them just now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I hope you've enjoyed the chapter, I can only imagine you were done with the rough patch. Or not, idk.  
>  I strongly encourage you all to comment, especially today. I didn't manage to get tickets for Louis' show, and I'm seriously contemplating dropping a meteor on that entire town and killing everybody. Tell me not to.


	12. Chapter 12

“They are not paying you enough.” Louis spat out his comment as he leaned down to pick up recently chopped timber, arranging it in a neat pile against the wall of the barn. In his position, really just playing a toddler-level game of farm-style Tetris, he was already quite exhausted himself. He could only imagine that Harry’s chore was ten times as draining as his was, perhaps even more than that since the boy wasn’t exactly very devoted to his task.

It really wasn’t his fault that he was falling behind, except that it was, one hundred percent. Letting his eyes hang on Harry’s sweat-slicked torso for a second or two every time he came back for more firewood to stack… let’s just say that it added up to quite a chunk of time.

Thankfully enough, it didn’t seem as though Harry was gravely annoyed at his companion slacking. Well, he still took his time to bash the boy a bit when he caught him staring, though that rather smug smirk that concluded his every rant told everything about the authenticity of that irritation.

“I don’t remember filling you in on my financial situation.” The brunette remarked, impaling the axe he was swinging into the base in the shape of a particularly wide part of a tree trunk, moving to stacking the wood after quickly readjusting the headband that kept the damp hair out of his eyes. “I can, with all certainty, say that they are not paying  _ you  _ enough though.” In a few swift motions, twice as efficient as the younger guy was, Styles managed to finish off arranging the portion of a whole bunch of lumber he had still yet to get through. “Though I am afraid you have your dad to thank for this one.”

“He really told them not to pay me, hasn’t he?” Louis asked, making his way to the improvised chair they deemed that lone hay bale that never left its designated place. As far as he was aware, Harry neither had a chance nor interest in taking part in the negotiations of the conditions Louis was going to relocate to the farm under. That call he thought he answered from Lou’s father, after a brief discussion, turned out to be Martin, falsely assumed to be Aaron Tomlinson. It wasn’t all that ridiculous of him to reach this conclusion. A normal father would call by himself rather than telling his assistant to make sure his son is still alive after being sent off in such a brutal manner, but Louis knew better than that, hence why he inquired about that call in the first place.

“Yeah…” Styles answered, gauging his companion’s reaction to that revelation. There was none to speak of. “I think we’ve had enough for today.” His lips pressed together in a clumsy smile as he let himself near the boy who maybe got slightly excited with attention he thought he was getting, before he was fully omitted, rendered just a casual sitting-buddy rather than anything more, Harry falling on the seat next to him. “I’m all sweaty…” The man groaned when he felt eager fingers resting on his waist on the side farther from the boy who was even more horrible at hiding his clinginess as he thought he was.

“Yeah, truly disgusting.” Louis chuckled against the bare shoulder he pecked just a second ago. “You’re still not staying, are you?” He inquired, not expecting the answer to be different from last time he asked, which was maybe three hours prior.

“Not yet, no.” Harry answered, something airy woven in the answer he sighed out.

The teen, having confirmed his suspicion, retracted himself away from his friend, laying back on the bale with a disappointed sigh. “Your loss.” That unbothered, so obviously fake front elicited a chortle from the older guy who still insisted that he needed a few more days to lay some groundwork before he moves back into the farmhouse, just to minimise the shock factor that would raise suspicion had he stayed the first night he felt like he had a reason to stay, which was just two days prior, when him and Louis reconciled on these rather new terms neither could say they haven’t enjoyed.

The problem was… while Harry’s reasoning made all the sense to Louis, he found himself getting impatient. Every kiss they’ve exchanged, full-on make-out sessions taking quite a chunk of their schedule whenever they felt they could get away with one, rose Lou’s appetite for more.

Don’t judge him, he never hid how horny he was, especially having this newfound privilege of being allowed to do all these things that the two of them were doing… which wasn’t much at all. Making out was fun, the two of them already pushing the line of what was appropriate and not considering the miniscule span of their transformed relation, but then, taking into account the deadline they were very aware of, they really had no time to waste.

They both knew what they were doing, having an adult discussion in extremely romantic setting of the chicken coop just the morning after they’ve made up. Turned out it wasn’t only Louis who hoped for getting something more out of this, though he could argue that Harry’s drive towards him must’ve been nothing in comparison with what he felt, his fingertips literally tingling to touch the brunette, lips so desperate to keep a cap of how Harry’s tasted at any given moment.

It would be foolish of either to think there was actual future to whatever they had going, neither naïve enough to delude himself like that, but with that, they knew the rest of their vacation together would be far more pleasurable if they just gave into it, had fun with it. So, they were doing exactly that, though Styles’ terms weren’t completely satisfactory to Louis, who just sort of wanted to make the best of the time they had together and make some memories to carry when he’s back to his boring, normal life.

“I’m well aware.” Harry murmured, laying still next to his comparably motionless friend. “We still have a bit to spare, what do you wish to do?”

The fact that he even asked only showed that there was still a lot he didn’t know about Louis, about the boy who hasn’t wasted a second of their time and rolled to the side. with fingers tightly gripping Harry’s chin, he pulled the man's head to the side to make his lips easier to claim. And that’s exactly what followed.

With the drags of his tongue quite a deal lazier than Harry’s, Tomlinson acknowledged the exhaustion that the very man he was now kissing was fully responsible for. As unbearable as it was to pretend that his overseer’s companionship was the last thing he actually needed this past week, there was one thing that he enjoyed in their separation. Striving to keep the two of them as apart as physically possible, the reason of that still mostly unclear to the boy who had yet to inquire, Harry has taken onto himself more chores than he usually would if they were in tandem. With these rather not demanding tasks to take care of, Tomlinson didn’t really get a chance to tire himself all that much.

So, the chores the teen already got accustomed to not doing were back, just as a few more that were laid onto the two of them out of nowhere. Suddenly, Frank’s job became theirs and as much as Louis didn’t understand why Harry would even agree to that, especially that he hasn’t mentioned any pay increase or anything like that, he hasn’t asked. He would be stupid to, aware that Harry was nowhere closer at least tolerating Frank as he was the day of that infamous fight, the cause of which being another of these things that the guest was not filled on.

The list of stuff that Louis seemed to be not deemed worthy enough to know was getting longer and longer. And of course, it started getting on his nerves because being left out was the last thing he liked. But then, he couldn’t really claim that he deserved to know anything, being a stranger these people for one reason or another accepted into their house, so he stayed quiet not to seem like an entitled fool.

“I meant something you could actually benefit from.” Harry laughed, their lips still just an inch or two apart. “I should’ve known better than let you get distracted like that.”

“Oh, I’m benefitting alright.” Tomlinson snarked, biting down on his swollen bottom lip. “Don’t you think I could use some practice?” He winked, two brief pecks laid on Harry’s smiling lips.

“I think you’re adequate enough.” His comment would meet with an offended look if it wasn’t for Lou’s awareness that this was just the man trying to be smug. “Fine!” Harry reacted to the pout his eyes fell on, Tomlinson unaware whether he even intended to execute one. “But we’re actually doing something productive on Wednesday.”

Confusion was clear on Lou’s face when he realised that tomorrow and Wednesday were not the same day. “What about tomorrow?”

“Oh… I haven’t told you, have I?” The teen’s head only shook a bit in an answer. Whatever the news Harry was just about to break to him were, Louis was sure he would’ve remembered. Sure, he was distracted with Styles parading half-naked everywhere, but he wasn’t  _ that  _ oblivious to what was going on around him. “I have to head home early tomorrow.”

“Early how?” His question was far less psycho-girlfriend than he expected it to be. Just an innocent question, like many others before and yet to come.

“I’ll come by for an hour or so, get through my share and bounce.”

“Already avoiding me, I see?” The teen smiled, just to make sure it doesn’t look like he’s serious. “Having second thoughts about this?” He stretched the joke, sitting up, crossing his legs as he stared at the axe.

“No, of course not.” The borderline whine he got in response was everything he needed to know that Harry was telling the truth. Feeling fingers creeping under the material of the tee he was wearing, gently grazing the small of his back in a fond gesture, he smiled just for himself to see. “I thought I’ve already told you, maybe it was Ada though…”

“Yeah, we do look very much alike.” Lou scoffed, cutting Harry off, his own fingers occupied with the hem of his shorts.

A sudden pinch to the muffin top he sported in these particular bottoms sent a jolt through Lou’s body. “Shut up.” The brunette laughed, smoothing over the irritated skin with the pads of his fingers. “I’m helping my grandfather move.”

And yeah… that rang a bell. No later than on Friday he remembered Anne briefly mentioning her father moving in with her, quickly skipping to one of a million rather light subjects they’ve babbled on for two whole hours they’ve spent in her garden.

“Don’t you need help?” He almost laughed at how un-Louis it was to offer assistance. Usually, he would have to be directly asked for it, even when either of his friends at home would move.

“I can manage on my own.” Harry shrugged his shoulders.

Holding back the comment on the taller man not being able to take a hint, Louis sighed out, throwing one of his legs over Styles’ lap, hands resting on either of his swollen pecs as he rolled his eyes theatrically for the man to see. “Let me rephrase that…” Something dark, almost threatening wandered into his voice. “Would it be a horrible inconvenience if somebody happened to tag along with you?”

_ Yeah,  _ Harry knew, that stupid grin Tomlinson was now looking down on showing how pleased he was to have the teen humiliating himself for a second of his time, even if that meant getting involved in actual manual labour.

Putting a front of wildly bothered by the sole idea of Louis helping him move heaps of stuff his grandfather accumulated throughout his life, the farmer exhaled sharply. “I guess you can come.” This time it were his eyes that rolled. “Just remember you owe me for that one.” The two of them shook in laughter.

And of course, Lou’s neediness didn’t let that pleasant little moment last all that long, the boy exploiting the position he found himself in to lean down and cling to Harry’s lips, tracing fingers of his right palm over the side of his partner’s neck, focusing on that slightly protruding line of his vein, popped from exertion.

“You’re killing me, Tomlinson.” Styles groaned against his friend’s lips, aware that pretending that he hasn’t felt the slight twitches of Lou’s pelvis against his crotch would be foolish and impossible to support. “Behave, now.” His voice almost stern, but not really, clearly forcing that manner in his words. “The devil is testing me today, but I must refrain…” He laughed, still letting the boy above him reach his lips, slotting his own against them, secretly getting off on that rather unknown feeling of being dominated like that. And of course, Lou’s hips haven’t halted for a second. “God, you’re a sin.” The mutter was all Louis caught before he felt hands clasping his forearms, keeping a tight grip as he was manhandled off his friend, in a far gentler manner this ill-fitting word would indicate.

“What was I thinking, trying to get into church boy's pants?!” Louis whispered as if to himself, though he wanted to be heard by his friend.

It worked, Harry laughed with him. “As you can see…” The man hopped off the bale his companion was still sitting on, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Lou’s lips. “I’m not as unfamiliar with breaking the rules as one might think I am.”

“Thank God.” The teen sighed out, wiping imaginary sweat off his temple with the top of his hand. “Thought was going to have to marry you to get further than that.”

A fond smile eased on Harry’s expression, fingers letting go of much smaller than his own hand he grasped mid-kiss. “We’ll see about that.” The pearl of his teeth peeked from under his quirked lip. “I think it’s time for me though.” The expression he got in return could only be described as displeased. “We’ll both regret it if we don’t go to sleep soon.” Of course, he was right in that claim, but Louis was not going to acknowledge that. So, he stayed quiet. “I still have to drive to the gas station.” An exasperated sigh concluded the intro to their farewell, the man overplaying the whole exhausted front.

“For what?”

“You know…  _ gas _ .” The brunette chuckled, flicking the tip of Lou’s nose with an index finger. Louis knew that the kiss that he could see coming was the final one, so, with that knowledge, he refused to let it be just a simple peck, getting a bit more out of it, hovering dangerously close to the point of no return. “See you in the morning, yeah? I might be a bit earlier than I usually am.”

“There’s no ‘earlier’ than that.” Louis denied the existence of time before six in the morning, getting himself one last chuckle before Harry turned away from him and simply left. And he knew that would happen, of course, he wasn’t stupid, but he still didn’t like being left alone. 

-

“What is  _ that  _ face?” Harry’s words snapped Louis out of whatever it was that he fell into as they drove in silence.

Only when mentioned, the teen realized that there was a full-blown frown on his face, one that he forced away in no time, an easy smile following the pensive expression when he felt a gentle tap on his knee. “Are you tired? You want me to drop you off?”

“Of course not.” The teen answered, praying the yawn away successfully. He shouldn’t have been tired, it wasn’t even mid-day yet, but he was, and there was no use pretending that Harry couldn't see him struggling to keep his eyes open. “There’s no time for slacking!” With unusual enthusiasm, he jumped out of the truck onto the gravel that lined the road Styles’ grandfather’s house stood beside. 

“Mom only wants a dresser, bureau and a few chairs from the bigger stuff. I think she put tape on whatever we have to take.” The taller man commandeered and paraded into his relative’s house like it was his own. “We’re here, pa!” He exclaimed into undisturbed silence that ended as soon as he announced their arrival. An older gentleman, somewhere between Harry’s height and Louis’, with a heap of white, tangled curls atop his head, emerged from a room that could only be kitchen. “This is Louis, you two have met a while ago, remember?” The brunette aided his granddad’s supposedly faulty memory.

“Oh, yes. Louis, of course, I remember.” He didn’t, both guests were well aware of that. He still exchanged a handshake with the boy nonetheless.

Keeping his guard up in presence of a stranger, Louis nodded his head politely. “Good to see you again, sir.” With a smile, he followed Harry deeper into the house. “Fuck, that’s a lot of stuff.” He commented, sweeping his eyes over the boxes piled in the bedroom, barely a sliver of red carpet visible in between them.

“He’s been living here his whole life.” The brunette commented. “So I think it’s fair.” Not wasting a moment, he hoisted a box like it weighed nothing and marched out, followed by his younger pal who struggled maybe a bit more than that, but hasn’t let that be seen… at least he hoped he didn’t.

The granddad, whose name happened to be Albert, stayed out of their way for the most part, just hovering around the house, seeming incredibly busy with adding stuff to the boxes, like that one pan scorched to the point of being useless he, bizarrely enough, put into a box labelled ‘bedroom’. Harry let him do that, even if he knew his mother wouldn’t approve of him enabling her father’s behaviour, already having looked through the stuff that she packed for him earlier.

Three trips to Anne's later, the two of them walked into the elderly man sitting on the bed of the very bedroom they’ve recently emptied, his eyes hung on the few boxes left scattered around the carpet, ones that, due to the lack of yellow tape on either of them, were left for Anne to deal with later.

“You forgot these, Mikey.” Albert announced, nudging with his leg a box that, as the picture indicated, once carried a truly ancient TV, a piece of something lacy peeking from underneath the flaps.

Confusion struck Louis, who just sort of hung behind Harry, who walked deeper into the bedroom. “Oh, have I?” The brunette answered his grandfather, which didn’t really make sense to the teen, but he wasn’t going to inquire, not now at least. “I was told to leave them here, I don’t know if there’s space to keep them in your new room.”

“Are you out of your mind? What will Irene wear then?” His laughter boomed in the bedroom, coarse in the way immediately giving away that at one, rather long point in his life, he smoked…  _ heavily. _

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Styles chuckled, knowing that nothing good would come out of leading his granddad out of this confusion he seemed to have fallen into. “We’ll make sure to take them with the next load, yeah?”

That brief exchange seemed to be over with a simple nod of Albert’s head, the man falling silent as his grandson busied himself with looking through one of the drawers of clutter his mother decided to leave out of that move.

“How is your granddad, Louis?” The oldest man asked out of nowhere, the teen looking up from where he stared at a family picture hung by the door. He was glad to see that apparently some of that confusion cleared up on its own since with the man mistaking his grandson for somebody else… he felt  _ bizarre _ . “Why am I even asking?” He scoffed. “Of course he’s a great guy, all of us are!” With enthusiasm, the elder clapped his hands, the sudden noise echoing in Lou’s ears.

Obviously forced, the teen joined in on the chuckle, in his peripheral vision observing his friend’s hands stilling. If Harry was a dog, Lou was sure he would see his ears tweak so he couldn’t miss a word of the answer Tomlinson was already fabricating.

“Precisely, one of a kind.” A little, white lie, that’s what it was. There really was no use saying the truth, which was that grandpa Tomlinson was a bigoted piece of shit, much like his own son… maybe even worse, though he, thankfully, didn’t get a chance to get to know that man well enough for that to be something more than just an assumption. “He’s not with us anymore though.”

A hoarse hum of acknowledgement broke the silence for a second, only Harry’s shuffling through what it sounded like a bunch of junk audible in the room. “Call your daddy today, Louis.” The piece of advice almost made him burst out in laughter. “You wipe their butts, kill yourself to give them a good life, and all these kids do is leave you all alone like my boy did, won’t even call and check up on his old man.”

Louis exhaled, trying not to be so obviously uncomfortable, but he didn’t know how successful he was. “I’ll make sure to do that, sir.” He reassured, adding this claim to the list of stains on his conscience, a minor, but still one.

“Can I have this, pa?” Harry finished that brief exchange more or less consciously, showing his granddad a pocket knife he came across in the back of the drawer.

“Sure.” Al agreed, dropping his eyes to the hands he now held in his lap. “Is Annie going to drop by today?”

“Of course, she is. You don’t know this from me but you might have a nice little pie on your way.” The tallest man spoiled a surprise his mother had prepared for her dad. In two, rather long steps he crossed the distance and sat to his relative’s left. “Though tomorrow you’ll have to be content with your boring grandson, mom’s out of town.”

Louis, not entirely sure what his place was in all of this, perched himself atop upholstered pouf, shuffling through a home improvement magazine he found laying on the dresser, one that only caught his attention with how incredibly old it looked. As it turned out, he was spot-on, small letters on the cover revealing that this issue was released in 83’.

“We’ll play cards, have some beers, eat something horrible for us for dinner and not tell mom a thing, yeah?" With a grin on his face, the brunette gently shoved his grandpa with a shoulder, the elder swaying to the side just barely so. “Maybe we’ll finally get to these guitar lessons you’ve promised me all those years ago.” Craning his neck, clearly searching for something on the floor, Styles stilled when he noticed the old guitar he was searching for, no yellow tape on that one, Louis noticed.

“It’s you who can never find time for your old pa, I’m always here.” Albert chimed in, going back to this neglected family member act that Louis knew for a fact, was a bunch of bull. “Always at work, slaving away for that drunk bastard!”

Tomlinson struggled to hold a laugh. He didn’t know what it was that made him so happy about the fact that not only he had his fair share of criticism towards Harry’s boss… well, he did. He just hated the guy, as simple as that.

More and more uncomfortable with every second of the two working through their issues, Harry trying to explain his grandparent that it’s not like he forgets about him, Louis got up and picked up the box Albert reminded them of, the light weight of which letting him snag the guitar that he let himself include in the move. Without further er ado, he walked out of the room, shortly after busying himself with rearranging the stuff on the bed of the truck so they could fit a few more boxes.

They haven’t lingered there very long after Harry’s talk with his relative ended. They’ve had a bit of a small talk, mostly Al complaining about a football game he watched on Saturday, the two guys listening without much interest, and then, with a few more boxes concluding their last trip, they left, saying their goodbyes to a man who gave them a six-pack of beer as a reward.

“I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have…” The brunette groaned when a song on the radio faded into some insignificant chatter. His eyes stayed on the road, even if both of them knew there was no necessity for this level of focus, only further showing how embarrassed about the whole situation he was.

There was really no need to. Sure, it was a rather bizarre experience, being schooled on how to treat your elders the last thing the boy expected when he first arrived on Albert’s porch, but it was not something Harry had any control over. To be fair, from what it looked like, the old man didn’t either… at least not completely.

Letting his hand wander to the side, grazing its way up from Harry’s knee to mid-thigh where it set camp, Louis smiled at nothing at all. “It’s all good.” His chuckle was low enough to get covered by the radio. “We’re all gonna be like that sooner or later… Bitter, old dudes nagging about our kids, won’t we?”

“Will you?” A hefty dose of surprise made it through in Harry’s question.

“Yeah… I’ve told myself I wouldn’t have kids long ago. So… maybe not  _ all _ of us.” He snickered, squeezing Harry’s thigh before he withdrew his hand, tweaking the radio up so the conversation wouldn’t spiral into something he didn’t want it to become.

The silence stretched for a while, even if it wasn’t necessarily all that silent. It never was in that car, roaring engine, buzzing radio… all of it was all but quiet, but neither of them talked, not really feeling like they had to.

“His son died years ago.” Styles words weighed heavier than any of their rather insignificant chats that filled the silence ever since they arrived at Anne’s and started unloading the truck. The heavy-lifting was all done now, the two of them unpacking the stuff according to the instructions Anne left for her son, knowing that if the boxes were left for her dad to get through, he probably never would unpack. “Michael, my mom’s older brother.” With a finger, he pointed at a man on one of the pictures in the album the two of them were looking through, just a little break from arranging stuff.

And then, it all clicked. “Mikey…” Lou whispered, nodding his head more to himself than to the other guy.

“ _ Yeah _ .” Harry scoffed, turning the page to unveil more pictures from the same event as the one they focused on before. “Mom gets mad at me for not correcting him, but I don’t have a heart to.” Sensing that maybe he could help like that, the teen let his hand embrace his friend from behind, his head leaning into the man in a j irather lousy attempt to show support. “Imagine having to tell your granddad, at least once every week, that both his son and the love of his life are long gone.” 

“I can’t imagine something like that.” Tomlinson admitted. To be fair, he sort of could, but still, his granddad being slightly worse version of his father, he couldn’t bring himself to pity that guy even in his imagination. “Come on, drop that now.” He commandeered, using his second arm to fully loop himself around the brunette, pulling both of them down to the bare mattress they were sitting on.

Finding something unsettlingly sombre in the green eyes looking back at him, Louis decided to, at the very least, attempt to get rid of some of it. Somewhat clueless in that whole comforting people debacle, he settled for his best bet, scooting closer to Harry just to kiss him. Dividing his focus between keeping himself at bay and the actual act of kissing the man, he managed to stay in that chaste region, gentle pecks exchanged between the two of them without elevating into something more serious, something both knew they couldn’t give into just yet. not with a whole list of chores to complete, and, most definitely, not on Harry's granddad's bed.

“Now that’s a nice little intermission.” The older guy chuckled against his friend’s lips, putting some more distance between them as he rolled to his back. With a furrow in his dark eyebrows, he looked at the freshly repainted ceiling of his sister’s old bedroom, now repurposed for his grandfather’s living quarters. “You lied about your granddad, haven’t you?”

And he… could only laugh. “Of course.” He answered. Mimicking his companion, he rolled onto his back as well. “Was it really  _ that  _ obvious?”

“No. I just know how to read you, it’s all.” Harry claimed, lifting himself off the mattress so he was back to sitting, slightly slouched forward with elbows propped on his knees.

Intrigued by the boldness of that assertion, Louis got up as well. He, for a change, moved deeper into the mattress, both of his palms resting on either of Styles’ shoulders, giving a firm, yet still pleasurable squeeze to the muscles he, as predicted, found to be rather tense. “Oh, do you now?” His whisper set on Harry’s ear in a shiver that travelled all the way down his spine, Tomlinson’s eager lips unabashedly conquering the unknown territory.

Nosing the thin stretch of skin on the brunette’s neck, gently pecking here and there, Lou let his fingers revisit the exquisite sculpture of his friend’s front. Seemed like that little adventure his hands wandered on was appreciated by the object of that sudden, yet so obvious adoration, a delighted hum seeping through Harry’s nostrils in reaction to the fingers creeping underneath the fabric of his top, head leaned to the left to grant the teen better access.

It took every last drop of self-control for Styles to catch his pal’s fingers and force them away from the button of the shorts he was wearing, but he managed. “Hold your horses, Tomlinson.” His laughter was deep, sending a jolt of something powerful through the boy who, very unwillingly, fell back onto the mattress, pressing his cheek to the stretch of Harry’s back as he cuddled him from behind.

“This is nice too, isn’t it?” The farmer asked, fully covering the hands resting on his stomach with his own.

“Yeah.” Louis admitted in a sigh, wiggling the fingers trapped under Harry’s. “You’re going to wish you haven’t done that when you find out what I am capable of, church boy.” He chuckled against the cotton of Harry’s tee that tickled his lip when he spoke.

The claim was bold and rather ridiculous since as much as Louis knew he wasn’t exactly alien to sex, having acquired  _ some  _ experience in these few years he engaged in more or less advanced endeavours, he was way too confident in his abilities, boasting just for the sake of teasing the man that stubbornly always stopped him when he got a bit overeager.

It was  _ fine _ , they’ve been doing this whole schtick for what… three days? That’s barely any time at all, though he couldn’t exactly say he was the personification of patience. It could be worse though, he could’ve been throwing tantrums to get his way, but he wasn’t.

“I’m sure.” Harry laughed, tipping himself once again to the back, crushing the smaller boy underneath his body. “There’s still so much to do.” He groaned, taking advantage of the newfound freedom of not being embraced anymore and rolling onto his stomach, face pressed to the mattress until he ran out of breath and had to catch one, meeting Lou’s gaze once his eyes were opened. “I think I’m hungry, are you hungry?”

And just as if the teen’s physical body was a separate being that felt like it was addressed, his stomach gurgled, admitting that he was, in fact, hungry.

“All I’m saying is that  _ technically _ , half of that case is mine.” Louis argued over reheated leftovers of yesterday’s dinner they were enjoying, both very obviously trying to eat as slow as possible so the break lasted longer than it should.

The mocking smirk bending Harry’s lips and the memory of the last time that Louis had ventured into that dangerous territory, told everything about his chances of actually getting that one beer he was trying to irritate his way towards.

“I’ll hold onto your share till you’re twenty-one, yeah?” He winked, taking a sip of Coke the two of them settled on for their beverage.

“Well that’s just nonsense. They have an expiration date, you know?”

“I can’t see how any of this is my problem.” His shoulders shrugged and with one last bite of whatever he managed to scrape off the surface of his plate, he got up, taking his dishes but leaving the boy who was still in the process of finishing his meal. “Or I’ll just drink it and get you a pack of your own when you’re old enough.” With spread fingers ruffling his hair, Louis sighed, at this point knowing better than arguing any further.

“How much longer?” Breathless, Louis inquired when the time has come for Harry to leave the farm they’ve spent the evening on. The last of their long done so they were mostly, hanging out. in reality, it was just a whole lot of making out, sharing earphones at the roof sheltering the front porch of the house.

Visibly amused by his friend’s lack of patience, aware of what the question was about, Harry took out the earphone and let it fall in between them. “Thursday, I promise.” He repeated himself for at least third time this day, letting his eyes linger on the face of a boy next to him, still so obviously flushed even with the silver light of the moon dulling the blush out.

There was no reason why Louis wouldn’t believe him. With the guy slowly but surely appearing more and more around the house, at least as much as his animosity towards Frank let him, the teen wouldn’t be surprised to have him move back in, even if he wasn’t aware of that whole intrigue.

Harry and Frank were still not okay, and Tomlinson remained unaware of the reason  _ why,  _ which, to be completely honest, he wasn’t appreciative of. What he knew though, was that being a nosy piece of shit wouldn’t probably end well for that particular relationship, so he kept his mouth shut, giving the brunette freedom to tell him if he ever feels like it, and if not… so be it.

“Fun.” The boy chuckled, unable to hide the smile that forced itself onto his face once his mind ventured to discover all the new possibilities coming from Harry living behind that incredibly thin wall rather than not very long, but still a ride to Anne’s house.

“I won’t be around much tomorrow.” Styles sighed, his face not exactly keeping his disappointment secret. “I know I promised we would go for a ride, we’ll reschedule. It’s just… something came up.”

And of course, Louis was disappointed. How could he not be? With this redefined friendship between Harry and him, he would gladly spend every given second of his life with that guy, but what he also knew, was that his friend was a busy guy, so his expectations were truly unrealistic. “Not fun.” He commented, the corners of his lips still twitching. “Granddad duty?”

“That too, yeah.” That full head of dark, dishevelled by Lou’s very own fingers curls shook in confirmation. “There’s still some stuff to unpack, which really is just your fault because you’re so damn distracting.” Those adorable dimples embellished his cheeks in that staple grin he wore so often ever since it returned from a week-long hiatus. “I would take you with me, but I sort of need you to keep a cap on everything here, yeah? Not to mention that I don’t really have time for all  _ this. _ ” A quick peck was pressed to the teen’s lips. “As nice as it, of course, is.”

Um…  _ sure.  _ Except not at all. If he was skilled enough to complete a fair share of the tasks without any horrible accidents, Louis would deem himself the last person in the whole state that should be trusted with ‘keeping a cap’ on the farm, whatever it was that Harry actually meant by that. Still, unwilling to be a hopeless burden that would stay in the way of the things his friend had to tackle next day, which had to be a lot of stuff since he decided to lay all the control in the hands of such an unreliable acquaintance, he nodded his head once, which was enough to convey his uncertainty.

“You’ll be okay. I’ll swing by in the morning to handle the cows, though I doubt you’ll be awake by then.”

Yeah… the reassuring hasn’t done all that much for the boy. “Wake me up then.” He insisted, the stern look on his face to further amplify his demand.

“Mhm.” Harry only muttered with his lips occupied by the farewell in the shape of a kiss he laid on his companion’s lips. “Don’t leave your window open, looks like it might rain.”

With that warning, he slid away from the boy, who panicked when he saw that instead of slipping into the bedroom through the window like any sane person would do, Harry approached the very edge of the roof that was their favourite hangout spot. There was not much he could do at this point, so he accused him of being insane before he watched his guest disappear, a thud of his feet on the ground at least a bit of consolation to the teen who was scared to even approach the edge to check for himself.

“I’m alive.” Lou scoffed at the whispered confirmation, the secrecy foolish with the roaring of the engine of Harry’s truck that broke out soon after, leaving no doubt about the late hour of the man’s departure.


	13. Chapter 13

The gentle tapping on the pane of the window Lou’s bed stood under was a dead giveaway that Harry was right with that weather forecast he gave just before he left last night, whether he was a natural born weatherman or just caught a snippet of the predictions in the passing. The boy groaned into the pillow, burying himself under the cover that felt ten times more comfortable when he realised it was raining outside. The grey clouds he got a peak of, fully concealed the sun which would usually tell him what time it was.

It wasn’t that he was rested, it’s just that he felt more…  _ alive  _ than he usually would when his alarm buzzed, and the fact that it wasn’t even the clock that woke him up, rose a whole sea of red flags in his head. So, not being foolish enough to believe that for some reason his body decided that it needed less sleep all of the sudden, he got up, confirming that it was, in fact, way too late for him to be waking up. What he noticed, besides the fact that he overslept severely, was a brown paper bag that didn’t fit in with the rest of the clutter on the bedside table.

Intrigued and already having realised who was the culprit behind him waking up late, he reached for the bag, unravelling the mystery of what he was going to have for breakfast. A few, homemade-looking pastries laid at the bottom of the bag, immediately summoning that almost painful grin that wasn’t something he broke out often.

Having chowed down through an embarrassing amount of bread filled with a selection of fruit fillings (let’s be real, he ate  _ all  _ of them), Louis found himself dying and less willing to tackle whatever chores he had ahead of him than he was before he stuffed his stomach to the point of almost exploding. For longer than he should have, he just sat on his bed, groaning about the fate he brought onto himself with his gluttony, still not regretting a single bite of crumbly pastry that caused him such an immense pain.

Only when he scrunched the bag, not leaving a single crumb to be tossed, he noticed black lines he missed, too preoccupied with… well, eating. Halfway set on ignoring whatever was written on the bag, he still unfolded it, smoothing out the creases until the shapely handwriting was legible enough.

Oh, how grateful he was he hadn’t ignored the message. In lines of black marker, Harry left a whole to-do-list with all the tasks they would complete together if it was a normal day, two top position, the ones dreaded the most by the teen, already ticked, leaving him with a few other boxes to tick off on his own, no marker in sight though, that was overlooked.

_ “Little something to get you through the day. Started the list off for you, the rest is yours to conquer. You’ve got it!”  _ The note above the list read, an array of farmyard animals’ cute faces drawn by each step on Lou’s chore list. Well… if he had to do all those things either way, it was nice to have at least that breakfast and the note to kick it all off with. 

Observing the monochromatic images, still so easy to distinguish, he couldn’t help but wonder how much time Harry spent on them, because Louis was sure he wouldn’t be able to draw something even remotely as good if he was given an hour. Was there a thing this man couldn’t do? Looked like there wasn’t, at least drawing wasn’t one of those things. Still, unwilling to let all that effort go to waste, no matter how much was  _ actually  _ put into the drawings, Louis folded the bag and put it under a stack of books he kept on his bedside table, an attempt to take back at least some of the damage he's done.

“Here, here, boy.” Louis grazed Raven’s side just barely so with the top of his hand, his dominant one keeping the rope attached to the halter he had a bit of a trouble putting on the stallion, but he managed. “Harry’s going to be here tomorrow, have a nice little ride with you, yeah?” He chuckled to the animal, feeling that he might be annoying the horse with his rather leisurely tempo. “I know you miss him very much, he’s just busy, you know?”

He didn’t know whether he was reassuring the stallion or himself, Raven didn't seem to look incredibly phased with his owner’s absence, at least not nearly as much as Louis found himself missing the company throughout the day.

But he pushed through, now ticking off the very last step on the to-do list that was still tucked in between books he never cared to read, not when the alternative was as enticing as Harry was. With Raven joining the remaining horses on the pasture, the teen evacuated the place, deciding to add one more position to the chores he already went through.

Thirty minutes it took him to stack the firewood scattered all over the ground around Harry’s chopping station. Fine, he was rather tired, but he couldn’t see himself working more efficiently with his usual company around, so, he persisted, the sky just started to turn black when he made it to the farmhouse, sweaty to the point where he could feel the moisture on his skin, but was sure nobody could notice him being all disgusting.

And thank God for that slightly colder weather that accompanied the rain that on-and-off, drizzled for the bigger part of the day, because as soon as he walked into the kitchen for a quick snack, he found both Frank and Ada there, enjoying their separate endeavours together.

Frank’s been around more than he usually would, only showing that he did not trust Tomlinson in ‘keeping a cap’ on his farm. Understandable, Lou couldn't say he trusted himself either, But heavens seemed to be on his side, nothing going wrong to the point where he wouldn’t know how to fix it and have to embarrass himself asking Frank for help, proving him right which he knew the man would absolutely love.

Getting rid of the grime accumulated underneath his bitten fingernails with a brush that was a permanent fixture of that kitchen sink, Louis listened in on his hosts straight-up gossiping about somebody he couldn’t say he knew over the crossword the woman was solving, something she sometimes did in her free time, claiming that it keeps her mind nimble.

“A Broadway show Cindy Lauper wrote music for…” She wondered out loud, clearly searching for support in her husband who… with all due respect, what could Frank know about Broadway? “Ten letters, I is the second one.” She gave more clues, without anything more than a grumble from her partner.

“Kinky Boots.” The teen finally spoke, knowing that any doubts about his sexuality that Frank and Ada might have had (let's be real, they probably never did), were gone as soon as he helped answering that particular question.

Because that’s what gays did, right? Loved musical theatre, the gayer the better, yeah? Well, not exactly, Lou couldn’t say that he had much interest in Broadway, but his father’s assistant jumped straight to that stereotype and stuck with it when it came to buying a Christmas gift for his boss’ son a year or two back. With three million ideas of things he’d much rather receive than these tickets, expensive ones but still, he still ended up going, taking Vanessa so he didn’t look so incredibly cliché with a man on his arm.

Nodding her head just barely so, the woman started filling empty cubicles. “Fits.” Apparently that answer led her to another one and then one after that, getting so busy with her crossword, there was nothing left to carry the conversation with either her husband or the boy who now snagged a peach out of the fruit bowl and took off, just a quick “Goodnight.”, to announce that he was not going to be back.

Having a bit of free time for himself for the first time since Harry and he started  _ talking _ again, he reached for a short story that his friend already sort of spoiled for him, but it sounded rather interesting when he did that, especially that it was written by the very man whose poem was the inspiration for Raven’s name, the author of the stanzas that proved Lou, during the first day of that friendship, that Styles was something more than his wit and great looks.

Trying very hard not to get the juice of a peach he was devouring on the pages he was getting through, Louis managed to get the sticky liquid all over himself which was the second worst thing that could've happened, but at least the book was okay.

Tossing the pit out of the window, he quickly moved to the bathroom to get the stickiness off his hands, dropping his tee into the hamper, returning to the lecture he was determined to finish before going to sleep.

And… yeah, that didn’t really work, at all. He hasn’t fallen asleep, no, but the hopes of finishing the story were thrown out of the window when the unmistakable roar broke the silence, louder and louder until it stopped a few feet away from Lou’s opened window.

Sat on the floor, legs crossed as he leaned on his bedframe, trying to act as if he wasn’t nearly as desperate to see Harry as he actually was, he  _ tried  _ to read, he really did. Not much of actual reading was being done when he attempted to divide his attention between Poe’s words and the footsteps he sort of expected to hear, which only ended with him re-reading the same sentence over and over again in hopes that maybe it will finally stick.

It never did, and all the chances for it to do just that disappeared once he heard these footsteps, the door to his bedroom flying open without a courtesy of a simple knock to show that the teen’s privacy actually mattered. “Is that something very important that you’re doing right now?” The guest inquired, leaning on the frame of the door he closed after he walked in.

“Depends.” Louis shrugged, ruining the illusion with how quickly he snapped the book closed, tossing it to the side. “What’s the alternative?”

There was a smirk on the brunette’s face, one that showed amusement with this unbothered demeanour his friend was faking. “A sleepover.” Seemingly just as disinterested, he shrugged the shoulders hidden under a black t-shirt he was wearing. “Mom’s out of town, somebody needs to watch the cat.”

And of course he got up immediately after hearing that, crossing his room to retrieve a fresh top even if he knew that he could probably use a shower before putting it on, but it didn’t seem like he had all that much time. “So… you’re saying you need help with keeping an eye on your mom’s cat?” He muttered, shoving his head through the tight neckline, smoothing the fabric over his stomach.

“You know she’s a handful, that one.” Harry laughed, sitting himself on the bed as he watched Louis pack the backpack he brought with him from New York. A change of clothes, a few steps of skincare routines he couldn’t miss, a toothbrush, a comb, just… essentials, all made it to the bag. “Hope you haven’t eaten yet.” The man spoke when the teen re-emerged from their shared bathroom.

“I had a peach.” Louis admitted, rearranging the dishevelled hair with his fingers, checking in the mirror if it was presentable enough. “Did Anne cook something nice before she left?”

No. Anne has not, and that was really quite obvious the second Louis walked into the kitchen of Harry’s childhood home. Maybe he didn’t have a whole lot of time to wrap his head around what he saw, Harry successfully derailing his exploration with far more pleasurable endeavour, but what he saw was enough to assume that picking him up was just a pause in some rather elaborate cooking project Harry had going on. 

“What have you been up to today?” The brunette asked, keeping the teen pressed against the counter, hands resting on either side of his hips.

Blinking lazily as he looked his friend in the eyes, Louis smiled, dragging his spread fingers through the dark hair atop Harry’s head, setting his palms on the nape of his neck, pulling him into a little kiss, just a peck. “Some asshole turned my alarm off so I overslept.” He kicked off the stretch of complaining he already set on in regards to the approach. “Then I was almost murdered by the mountain of baked goods somebody planted in my bedroom.”

Stepping away from the boy, returning to the task of peeling the carrots he abandoned to pick up Louis before it got too late, Harry quickly concluded the prep for the dinner he had planned for quite a while now, the guest already sat on the counter. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a horrible day.” He forced the empathy, rinsing the carrots, cutting them somewhat evenly and tossing onto the baking tray with other vegetables, some of which Louis already knew he wouldn’t be a fan of.

Turning to have a better look at whatever the hell Harry was doing with the oven, he stole a piece of stray carrot that hasn't made it onto the tray that was now slid into the oven. “Is this what it is?” He asked. “An apology for leaving me to die on that godawful farm?”

“Precisely.” Two, dry-rubbed steaks were slapped onto a piece of paper towel next to the stove and abandoned for a reason unknown to the teen whose cooking skill laid somewhere in between instant ramen and rather lousy scrambled eggs with just a bit of shell he couldn’t, for the life of his, keep fully in the trash.

Swinging his legs in the air like a child would, the guest just observed every move of Harry’s, swaying his body just barely so to the rhythm of a ballad quietly seeping from the speakers of the radio standing on the kitchen table. “Would it be awfully rude if I left you for a second? I’ve got peach juice all over myself, could use a quick shower.”

“Not at all, of course.” Even if it was Louis who announced that he will be leaving, Styles made it out of the kitchen first, returning only two, maybe three minutes later just like he left. “I'm running you a bath, the weather suits one, doesn’t it?” His eyes hung for a second on the pane of the window to his right, droplets of warm rain rushing down towards the bottom line. “There is a clean towel on the windowsill. Take your time, we’re not in a rush, use whatever you need.”

Hopping off the counter, far more pleased with a vision of a bath that was something that he had planned for the evening at Frank and Ada’s, the teen walked out of the kitchen, leaving his friend humming a Bon Jovi song.

Whatever it was that he did to deserve this sort of treatment, it must’ve been something major. Walking into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly creaked, he quickly undressed himself, turning the tap closed before he stepped into a full bath of perfectly warm water with bubbles clinging to his chest when he laid, putting a folded towel under his head.

Harry was right, the weather was perfect for a bath, even if he, with his whole water conservation initiative, wouldn’t usually endorse one. Clicking of the droplets against the opened window worked miracles when it came to soothing him, to the point where he almost fell asleep like that, which probably wasn’t something Harry hoped for when he ran his friend a bath.

So, Tomlinson willed his eyes to stay open even if only for the sake of those steaks over the idea of which he was already salivating profusely; the movie he was promised, another nice thing he had coming.

A gentle tap on the solid door pulled Louis away from the thoughts he let himself get lost in, mostly fantasising about the dinner, maybe getting his hopes up for something else, though he was embarrassed to admit to that even in front of himself. “Come in.” .

“I think I’ll start the steaks, is that okay?” Harry asked, slight draft picking up when he opened the door wider. “The water must be getting cold by now, doesn't it?”

Shuffling his foot underwater to test the claim, Tomlinson found himself realising that it was true, the water already closer to tepid than the scorching hot on the verge of which it was when he started. “It is.” His head nodded, wiping away the foam that clung to his chin when it fell into it.

“I still need like ten more minutes for the food to be ready, so take your time.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving the door the same amount of open as he found it when he came upstairs. Ten minutes sounded quite nice… except that he didn’t really have a way of keeping a cap on the time, bathroom far from usual place for a clock to hang.

So, with five minutes he more or less accurately counted in his head, the boy got out, rinsing the suds out of his hair and his whole body, letting that glorious, deliciously scented bath run down the drain.

There wasn’t much he could do with his limited resources, only bare minimum packed in the bag he brought with himself to the bathroom. Already wearing the tee Harry gifted him, his usual choice for pyjamas when the weather required one, a pair of joggers loose around his legs, he brushed his wet hair back, too lazy to use a comb like a normal person would, deeming his fingers sufficient for the job.

Cursing himself out for forgetting his night moisturiser, he settled for the day one, better this one than none at all, right? With his brief routine concluded, he ran down the stairs to meet Harry, his stomach taking over the role of a guide, leading him straight to the table that was already set for them to eat at.

“What happened to the no-alcohol rule?” He inquired, taking a seat on one of the chairs, complimentary with a glass of what looked like white wine.

Plating a selection of roasted vegetables to the side of the steak on Lou’s plate, Styles smirked, the expression barely noticeable. “Still very much in effect.” He moved to his own plate, snagging a half of a brussels sprout before the meal officially started. “It’s a fake wine.”

“Of course.” Louis scoffed, still taking a sip just to test the flavour before his palate was overwhelmed by what, by the looks of it, was a flavour bomb that laid on the plate in front of him. Sure, he had better than that, but he had worse. For a ‘fake wine’, it wasn’t extremely offensive on his tongue, not at all.

“It’s no fillet mignon but it’s better than the haunted steak from the movie…” Styles laughed, kicking off their dinner as he grabbed his utensils. “At least I hope it is.”

Rolling his eyes at the unfamiliar lack of confidence his friend was exuding, Louis let himself be the judge of that meal he was surprised with, cutting himself a sizable piece of meat he laid on his tongue, chewing with a forceful pensiveness on his face.

He could only groan, his taste buds overwhelmed by what, however biased, he deemed the best steak he ate in his life. “Is there something you cannot do?” His question quite obviously stated his opinion on the food he was served, the criticism of brussels sprouts omitted only because it was his personal opinion that these little shits shouldn’t even exist.

“No.” Harry’s head shook in denial, the man far more enthusiastic about the green globes he halved and roasted in some sort of marinade, tossing one into his mouth after every bite. “Not one thing.”

Not seeing a way how he could possibly carry this conversation any longer, Louis decided to shift it to a different topic. “How’s Albert?” He inquired, not faking the interest he had with his friend’s grandfather, growing quite fond of the cheery man over that one day they've spent together.

“He asked about you actually.” Harry laughed, chasing a bite with a sip of wine, only then reminding the boy that he was supposed to ask whether they were drinking the same thing but never did. “We had a lot of fun, too bad that on your expense.”

“It was worth the labour if my pal Al had a good day.” He joked, nudging his friend’s ankle with his foot under the table. “I’d handle a whole lot more for that kind of gratification.” Another bite of the steak made it into his mouth, perfect medium even if he didn’t remember being asked about his preference. Maybe it was a coincidence, but with as skilled as Harry was in… everything, really, he didn’t hesitate to give him credit for not only predicting his friend’s perfect stage, but also executing it quite this flawlessly.

Even when he, unwilling to disrespect the cook with his pickiness, and decided to suffer through two whole brussels sprouts that found their way onto his plate in four halves, he deemed them less offensive than he normally would, but that really could be just his bias towards the host, which was something he couldn’t deny he had.

“I thought I could do at least that if I cannot actually pay you for that day.”

Yeah…  _ right _ , Louis saw his friend breaking more or less serious rules on the daily basis, so that really was just an excuse. With all that, he would pick this dinner over any money, especially knowing that Frank couldn’t have been paying a whole lot for the work his friend was doing. “Give me a foot rub and we’re square.” Winking above the table, he smiled at his own joke, even wider when he saw the expression spreading.

“Deal.” They were laughing for a second until they weren’t anymore, busy with eating and shooing away Anne’s cat that made an appearance, summoned probably by the gloriously smelling dinner and as greedy as it made the animal look, the teen couldn’t really blame the cat.

The music from the radio, some very 90s pop single, hasn't fit the atmosphere at all, yet it didn’t seem to bother either to the point of changing the station for something else or just shutting the device off altogether. So, they ate, exchanging fond gazes across the table, going for seconds and even thirds of the roasted potatoes before there was nothing left for them to eat.

After a quick, obviously fake argument about who is going to tackle the dishes, Louis, oh-so-graciously let Harry handle the chore, not without a fair share of complaining as if it was something he dreamed of doing instead of insisting just for the sake of being polite, secretly hoping he wouldn’t be allowed to wash the dishes. And of course, Styles, being the gentleman he was, would  _ never  _ let him do that, sending him away to the living room where he promised he would join him immediately when he’s done.

Satisfied with the outcome of that ‘argument’, Tomlinson hasn’t opposed, slouching in the comfortable cushions of Anne’s couch, covering himself with a blanket he found folded on one of the armchairs.

The TV was something that he couldn’t say he used a whole lot when he was at home, resorting to a whole array of streaming services his father paid for even though nobody was using them at the moment, but he still reached for the remote as soon as his eyes fell on it. He turned the flatscreen on, landing on HGTV that was the absent host’s default program, buzzing in the background solid four out of five times Louis had a chance to encounter the TV being on.

Shuffling through the entire list of channels, he quickly got reminded  _ why  _ he wasn’t an avid TV watcher. there was simply not one thing that sparked his interest… well, there was Parks and Rec on, but there was whole three minutes left of the episode, so he fully ignored that position. And when he came to realise that he was not going to find anywhere there, that’s when Harry came back, getting comfortable in the other corner of the sofa, one that Lou vacated by pulling his knees up.

“I wasn’t serious, you know?” The boy asked when, fully overlooking his reluctance to do that, Harry pulled his bare feet onto his lap, keeping them covered with the blanket as he made advances on the left one, soon already kneading tired muscles that carried the boy’s weight for that whole, rather labour-intensive day.

These words seemed to completely miss Styles’ ears, both his palms focused on bringing back the normal circulation from where it sort of slacked, Lou’s cold feet a dead giveaway of that being the case. “I was not.” His shoulders shrugged flippantly, eyes gazing from his companion’s face to the TV that ran commercials at this very moment. “Found something interesting we could watch?”

“I wouldn’t be lying if I said that this is the most thrilling broadcast.” He sighed, more from sheer pleasure he felt on his feet than the frustration at the lousy programming. “At least the same amount of interesting as anything else that is running.”

“I guess we could always resort to my DVD’s.” The proposition hung in the air, both sets of eyes darting to that rather extensive collection of DVD movies Louis previously, audibly too, deemed a dust collector rather than anything useful, offending his friend gravely with that remark. He wasn’t wrong… neatly arranged rows of colourful cases, really were quite a waste of space, especially that VOD was a thing. “Though I really shouldn’t with the disrespect you showed towards my collection.” Head shaking, the brunette slipped off the couch, on all-fours approaching the shelves that stored however many copies that he acquired in his rather short life, close to hundred, at the very least, though Lou wasn’t the most reliable person when it came to assessing quantities of objects by eye. “What it is that your heart dictates tonight? A comedy? Thriller? Animation? I have everything here, or are we just shooting for our old faithful? We haven’t done  _ American Psycho _ , have we?” Quickly locating the movie in question with ease owed to a system he had arranged the boxes in, Harry showed it to the teen that knew full well he wasn’t going to waste a second of his time on watching a movie.

“Not that,  _ please. _ ” His objection was stronger than ever before, strange especially now that he claimed not to care about whatever Harry couldn’t be delusional enough to believe they were going to watch. “That’s just way too close to home.” As indifferent as he previously showed to be to their choice of a movie, he surely didn’t want to be transported into the very neighbourhood he lived in, thank you very much. “Anything but that.”

Given full decision right over their séance, Harry slid a disc carrying a mysterious movie and got back to the previously claimed spot.

As guilty as he felt for making Harry do this, even if  _ technically  _ he didn’t make him do anything at all, Louis couldn’t help himself and returned his feet to Harry’s lap, sighing with pleasure when, having read the clue correctly, the host started kneading the sore muscles he was partially responsible for with his absence at the farm.

“You don’t  _ actually  _ have to do this.” Of course, he only spoke to seem polite, just as he argued that he should be the one doing the dishes when, in reality, he had no desire to do that. Secretly hoping that these words get disregarded as the previous ones were, he waited for the answer, not getting one, just more… bliss, heaven,  _ fuck,  _ it felt better than it should have. “So it’s just a fetish you have?” All he could do was laugh, not having any right to shame his friend when he was enjoying the subject of his hypothetical perversion so much.

“Not  _ fetish _ .” The brunette’s face scrunched, that word not one he was glad to have associated with him. “I can stop if you…”

“No, please.” Louis opposed perhaps quicker than it would be appropriate with this faux hesitancy he wore ever since his feet were first touched. There was a comment forming in regards to the way Harry smirked at the TV, the smile mostly disguised by darkness, but nothing stood a chance against the moan of pure pleasure that escaped without his permission when Harry’s thumbs dug into something that must’ve been a g-spot that he had, due to some physical anomaly, on his foot. “ _Oh my_ _fucking God_.” A second, more controlled moan chased the first one that was his inner animal making a cameo. “This is better than anything that anybody has ever done to me.” Bolder, knowing that there’s no way Harry wasn’t aware of how good he made his guest feel, Louis scooted fully onto his back, giving into that simple pleasure that as taboo as it was at first, now joined the hall of fame of Lou’s favourite activities. “Sex is so overrated.”

Harry still smiled, absentmindedly massaging his friend’s feet, trying to seem like he was watching the movie when his expression clearly showed that he was not doing that. “Never had you tootsies rubbed like that?” He chuckled, using the very tip of his index finger to tickle the soft sole of Lou’s right foot.

Kicking just enough not to discourage the brunette, Louis found himself searching through the archives of his memory for that answer. “No, not that I recall.” His head shook against the pillow he managed to flatten with his body. “I would have to find myself a guy who is not repulsed by them first.” Eyes rolled just at how idiotic the logic of it all was, or maybe not, there had to be a reason why he was so reluctant to even let Harry touch his own feet. Who knew, maybe he had some internalised phobia he wasn’t aware of. “They will eat your ass alright, but apparently feet are a no-no.”

“That’s because, my dear, you keep dating boys.” Another tickle, not nearly as relentless as the first one, maybe even accidental, made the teen squirm. “Which I can’t really blame you, still being one of them.”

“So you’re basically saying I should get myself somebody who will rub my feet, run baths for me and feed me well?” A hum of appreciation chased that vision.

“Doesn’t it sound like a dream?” Styles’ focus shifted to the one foot he’s been neglecting for a minute or two.

Yeah… it did. Good luck finding somebody like that though. Louis didn’t know if it was him searching in all the wrong places, but he had a hard time finding himself a dude who wouldn’t leave him feeling like a whore, slipping away after a hook-up, not to mention borderline worship Harry described to him.

Well, it was  _ obviously  _ him. What else could he expect when the majority of his surprisingly not-so-extensive list of past sex partners, were met at some sort of party, whether his friends threw one or just his clubbing outings that were rather frequent by the start of his gap year, before the excitement about obtaining a fake ID has worn off and he went back to appreciating those quiet hangouts where he would just smoke weed with his friends at either of their places.

And of course, he was still too young to even think about searching for something serious, as far from settling down as he was at the age of ten years old. it was just Harry who put that thought in his head in the first place, nothing serious in that endeavour he sent his mind on.

With a sly smirk on his lips, unwilling to give away how much he was enjoying being the centre of attention, something he’s grown quite alien with ever since he was dropped off at the farm, he let the blanket cover the majority of his face as if it could take back his borderline orgasmic moans that he tried to, unsuccessfully, forget. “I can’t say this feels horrible.”

And after that there was…  _ nothing _ . Only when a bloodcurdling screech cut through the otherwise silent living room, Louis snapped out of sleep that snuck up on him out of nowhere. Well… he was tired, but he didn’t think he was  _ that  _ tired. And now, with the sudden twitch of his startled body, the movie back to its original volume, he noticed that his feet were still being massaged which was… both amazing and almost made him feel bad for Harry, still kudos for dedication.

The pillow he fully buried his face in was a great muffler for that exhausted groans that were always there when he woke up, so he stayed in this rather uncomfortable position for as long as the air supply in his lungs let him. After it all ran out… he had to go back for more, sitting up, feeling like he was going to fall back to sleep if he stayed down. “You are…” His head shook in disbelief as he looked at Harry who stared at him as if he was declaring something incredibly important which he really wasn’t going to do. “Insane.” Putting a stop to this undeserved foot rub he was getting for however long it was happening, he retracted his legs and crossed them in that sliver of space between him and his friend. “But so wonderful.”

The grin he was gifted in return was appropriate for the compliment he gave the brunette. Unfortunately, he did not get too much time to appreciate it as his head, still feeling so incredibly heavy with the lingering sleep, fell forward, the boy resting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder.

He didn’t even know if it was him or Styles who was to blame for that, but soon after, he was already back to laying, though this time, it was his head that was on Harry’s lap, not his feet. And of fucking course, he didn’t have to wait all that long before his scalp was being massaged.

This wasn’t exactly what he thought would happen when he was told about that sleepover Harry planned for them, but maybe it was better than what he imagined. Well of course, he didn’t mind them making out every second they got but being pampered like he was at this moment… let’s just say he didn’t exactly hate that.

“We  _ really  _ have to take the horses out tomorrow.” Louis turned out to be the one responsible for breaking the bubble with mundane business they somehow managed to leave out of that particular evening. “I did as much as I trust myself with, but Raven’s getting impatient with my bullshit.” Scrambling to his knees, he sat next to his friend, tilting his head to the side in preparation to ask the question he sort of knew the answer to but wasn’t sure with all the things Styles had to deal with lately. “You’re working tomorrow, are you?”

“Of course. We’re heading to work first thing in the morning.” It was surprising that he hasn’t even commented on the fact that it was Frank who was supposed to handle Raven and not Louis who treated the disclaimer he was given during his first day on the farm rather… loosely, considering how terrified he was of that particular stallion in the beginning.

Tomlinson’s approach to horses might have been the single thing that transformed the most during these few weeks he spent on the farm. His altogether behaviour was a big change as well, but nothing compared to the ease with which he handled the animals he was initially so scared of, still claiming that the stables were his favourite place on Frank and Ada’s whole land. Nobody would probably believe in the claim that it wasn’t for the fact that it had a whole bunch of hiding spots where Harry and he could make out, but as nice as this aspect undeniably was, it was only his second or third reason to spend nearly as much time in the stables as he did.

There was just one other thing he was curious about. Well… not really. With the brevity of their relationship, he was sure there was a whole lot of stuff about Harry he didn’t know, most of which he probably wasn’t going to find out anyway, but he was interested, though being let in on his friend’s secrets wasn’t exactly the most pressing matter at the moment. Or maybe it was, if you look at how little he had left to uncover these things, the few weeks he was sure would last a whole eternity, seemed like nothing with his vacation being almost halfway done.

“Are you still moving back in tomorrow?” He asked, whispered more like since he didn’t feel the need to raise his voice as close as they were, the boy already straddling his pal’s lap. “You didn’t even give me a kiss.” Accusatory, he took the matters into his own hands and leaned, stealing a peck for himself.

Smiling, eyes lazily opening from where they usually closed when the two of them kissed, Harry's hands slowly but surely crept up Lou’s thighs, setting on the teen’s waist. “I am.” He nodded, rubbing his thumbs over the cotton of his companion’s tee. “We’re going to be roomies again.”

“Not that I’m trying to discourage you or something, but I’d rethink this decision if I were you.” It really sounded like he didn’t want Harry there, but he was just joking! “You’ll have a really tough time getting rid of me.”

His shoulders shrugged a bit as if the threat of having Louis glued to him at all times hasn’t phased him one bit. Maybe he thought it was a joke, but with as clingy as the teen proved himself to be, he couldn’t be all that sure. “I’m struggling to see how this is a bad thing.”

It wasn’t long till Louis, not considering himself sly enough to be all seductive in his attempt at getting into Harry’s bedroom, resorted to straight-up lying his way there. Successfully, mind you that, now having a nice spot in Harry’s lap, his legs fully entrapping the man from behind. “I thought you were tired?” Even being called out on his bullshit, clearly not nearly as tired as he claimed to be when he urged Harry to show him to his bedroom, he hasn’t ceased his mischief, struggling to get his friend’s tee as far from the two of them as possible, knowing that he was bound to lose as long as the brunette’s hands stay down.

“Don’t do that.” Not liking the sound of the word ‘no’, even if he hasn’t  _ actually  _ heard it, Louis burrowed his face in that golden spot in the juncture of Styles’ neck and shoulder, the one that housed his face as if it was tailored especially for that purpose. Groaning and still grasping onto the bunched-up t-shirt, he  _ tried  _ to be all sexy and enticing as he involved his lips, nipping at his friend’s neck. “You’re making me feel like a degenerate.”

“Because you are one.” Even though Harry leaned away from the boy, his rejection wasn’t nearly definite enough to keep Louis away. “It’s late, we should be sleeping already.”

Seemingly defeated, Louis sighed, letting go of the material, looping his arms around his partner’s midsection. “Yeah, okay.” He shrugged as much as his position allowed, which was not much at all. More than his own movement, he felt Styles’ chuckle travelling through his body.

“I don’t think this would be the most comfortable sleeping position.” Just like that, Harry observed, his hands contradicting his words as one of them kept the boy close and the other smoothed over his hair. 

Halfway satisfied by the current state of things, not seeing himself succeeding in the endeavour he wandered on previously, Louis admitted that it might have been a bit premature, especially that he didn’t know how his friend’s godliness influenced his opinion on casual sex. So, he poured a metaphorical bucket of cold water on himself, still remaining clinging to the brunette as if he was a koala bear or…  _ yeah _ , sloth would probably fit him more at the time. “I don’t think I care.” His voice a mere mumble against the skin his face was nuzzled in.

If he was asked, he probably wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact thing that humoured the host so much, but Harry was once again laughing, swaying their joint bodies to the sides as if it took this little to get the teenager off his hair. “I swear to god… If somebody told me, the first day that we met, that this pissed off guy would be so impossibly cuddly… I would’ve laughed.”

Maybe there was some true to his words… perhaps a whole lot of it, to be honest. But then, was Louis from a month ago the same Louis that sat on this very bed right now? That question was not exactly something the teen wanted to ask himself, if only for the fact that it caused more and more questions to pop up in his head and he didn’t have energy necessary to even attempt to wrap his head about all of that.

So, he dismissed that particular topic, put it away to deal somewhere in the future, or not at all… perhaps he’ll be able to forget about it. “If somebody told me…” His head raised from Harry’s shoulder so his words could be at least understood if he already took the effort to come up with a comeback. “I wouldn’t have poetry recited to me nearly as much as I thought I would that first day that we met… I wouldn't let you kiss me that first time, nor the second and any of the next ones either.”

“Is Humpty Dumpty any good?” Harry joked, kindly enough not commenting on the fact that out of every ten of their kisses, one was instigated by him, two maybe but that was the absolute maximum. It was not that he wasn’t affectionate, not at all. He wasn’t above asking for attention when the two of them happened to separate for a moment or two and Louis wasn’t the first one to do that (which, let’s be real,  _ barely  _ happened), but what he also was, was responsible enough not to get their newfound arrangement get in the way of their job, maybe treating their chores a whole lot more serious since he was the one actually being paid for doing them.

It wasn’t something that Tomlinson had planned, not much time to actually prepare any sort of answer, but his palm ended up slapping Harry in the chest after he, supposedly so-very-offended, put a bit of a distance between the two of them. “It would if you haven’t flexed on me with that whole Raven thing back then, it won’t when I know what you’re capable of.”

“What are the requirements then, professor?” The brunette murmured into his friend’s ear, dragging the very tip of his nose over the outline of the shell of it. “Something romantic, I am sure.” His whisper tickled the delicate skin behind the boy’s ear.

“Preferably not written by a guy who married his teenaged niece.” Louis added. “Because once again, you seem to vibe disturbingly well with pedos.”

“I do not!” In false outrage, Styles used the space between them to set his palms on Lou’s chest and fully push the boy off himself so he was laying flat on the bed.

It was a second that Louis let himself get distracted, and then he was being kissed. Liking the way Harry decided to cut the egregious accusations, he hasn’t opposed, getting his fingers, once again, tangled in the material of his pal’s tee, not yet confident enough to pull it back up.

Only when he felt eager fingers creeping under his own top, grazing up his side, he got bolder and returned to the activity he was discouraged from just before. This time, there was no opposing, just silent compliance as he slipped Harry’s t-shirt off the man’s torso, just a bit of awkward fumbling before he tossed it to the floor with fervency unknown to him.

Waiting for his friend to snap back to being the voice of reason in this equation, Lou still let himself get excited, trying to divide his attention between kissing and touching Harry’s bare body, though he quickly got overwhelmed with the stimuli, keeping the whole kissing debacle on the backburner, letting his partner take the lead because, well…  _ priorities. _

Harry, as always, seemed to have read the situation flawlessly, stepping into the position that was left for him and letting his partner do exactly what he desired to do. It wasn’t even that Tomlinson was alien to the body he was now exploring with zeal unknown to human kind, miles already were crossed over Harry’s torso just during the times he tried to get the brunette to finally fuck him.

See… the exact number of times he attempted to get into Harry’s pants before was too embarrassing to even admit, but it’s safe to say that he was already somewhere in the double digits. Even now, making out on Harry’s single bed, it wasn’t the furthest he managed to get with the endeavour, so the threat of it all coming to an abrupt end when  _ somebody  _ (of course, it was never going to be Louis), gets struck with a sudden wave of clarity, was still very much real.

So, trying to be sneaky, striving to get Harry as naked as possible without seeming too desperate (yeah, he was desperate but nobody needed to know), Louis was already down to business, pushing down the waistband of his friend’s sweatpants. There wasn’t much success to his action, their position putting a serious obstacle he couldn’t conquer as long as Styles doesn’t cooperate.

But he did not, Lou’s tugging more and more determined until he did, actually succeed, though that was only when Harry took pity on him and allowed for him to. “So now… sleepy time?” Styles asked, his hand resting just on the side of his younger pal’s right thigh, the other one occupied with holding himself above the boy.

He was just teasing, and Louis knew that, but then, knowing Harry… he wouldn’t be all that surprised if they finished right around there and he was, once again, left hot and bothered as all the times before. “I swear to god, I’m going to throw a fit.” The threat was as real as it ever got, the frown on Lou’s face only further supporting that impatient front.

Harry laughed, obviously not treating his friend as seriously as he should have. “What if I want to see that?” Giving up on holding himself up in the air, he fell to Lou’s side, slowly stroking the boy’s hair, letting the exhaustion get the best of him, eyes falling closed not to open again.

And Louis was… mildly disappointed to see him like that, though not exactly to the extent of throwing a tantrum. Admitting defeat, he let himself close his eyes too, face nuzzling against Harry’s chest both from the lack of space for the two of them on that single mattress and being the clingy piece of shit he was.

“In my mind…” Louis murmurs, his barely there whisper fully audible in the quietness of the bedroom. “When a guy invites you for a  _ sleepover… _ it’s pretty self-explanatory.” He even tried to sound disappointed, far more than he actually was, but it didn’t really work all that well. “Though it was stupid to think it would be nearly as easy with you as it usually is.”

“What does that even mean?” Harry’s chuckle ruffled the hair atop his friend’s head.

Rolling the eyes hidden underneath his lids, Tomlinson reached the corner of the duvet that was trapped underneath him after they’ve kicked it to the floor and covered the two of them with it. “Nothing at all.” He huffed, and before he could say something else, the lights were shut by Harry, who apparently was definite in his decision.

Maybe it was better that way. After all, exhausted by more manual labour than he’s done in his lifetime, Louis was far from his physical prime, which really wouldn’t do his performance any favours. It only fully occurred to him how exhausted he was when the rain picked up again and cleared his head of any thoughts that might have been distracting him previously.

Sharing a single bed with another person, especially one of Harry’s posture, there weren't a lot of ways he could lay down, especially if he wanted to be actually comfortable. The limited assortment of available positions led to him shifting a whole lot before he turned his back to Harry and just sort of… laid there, not necessarily cosily, not at all.

“I probably should just go to my mom’s bed, huh?” Turned out Louis wasn’t the only one struggling to position himself. But then, contrary to his words, Styles threw his hand over his friend’s waist, pressing his body closer to the smaller one until they were full-on spooning.

If Harry’s bed was rather small for the two of them, Louis couldn’t see how him not being there would be better. So, voicelessly giving the message to the man, he entrapped the hand laying in front of him under his own, pretending that this was enough to keep the brunette in place if he wished to leave.

As it appeared, he didn’t.

Soothed by this fact, Louis just laid there, embraced by the warmth of the body keeping him in place. Lulled by sound breathing and the tapping of teardrops on the windowpane, it didn’t take long till he gave into the exhaustion and then… there was nothing.

The glorious slumber was all-too-abruptly stripped away from by that one, particularly loud snore that tore its way out of his throat. Both the rain and the darkness were still there, so he couldn’t be asleep all that long, could he? Remaining very entangled in that cloud of lingering sleep, he only realised he wasn’t in his bed when he outstretched his arm and touched wood that built the frame of the bed he was laying in, not familiar to the coolness of wrought iron that held the mattress in his temporary residence.

And then, his short-term memory swept the haziness away and reminded him where he was, and why, soothing his panicking brain completely. As unwilling as he was to actually get up, the scratching in his throat insistently demanded to be pacified with a sip of something. 

So, he got up, his limbs resisting carrying him for a second until he willed his brain to lead him to the kitchen that, in the darkness, wasn’t nearly as easy to locate as he thought it would be.

He was still half asleep when he bumped into the wall, missing the arch leading to the living room just by a few inches, the loud thump of his silhouette clashing into the wall waking him up almost fully from that residual sleepiness.

Only then, when he rubbed his eyes from the mist that was preventing him from seeing correctly, he noticed a familiar silhouette sitting on the couch.

_ Well _ , it was not that familiar after all, hardly distinguishable in the darkness that in place like the village Louis currently lived in was far more powerful than it was in New York… though it was hard to think of darkness at home, as of something more than a fantastical concept.

He approached, tentatively, unknowing how aware of his presence Harry was. He must’ve been, given that he was awake which… his position would be weird when it came to sleeping but then, what would he be doing there in the darkness?

Having a look at the clock on Anne’s old DVD player, surprising himself with the information that it wasn’t even two in the morning, he set his palms on both shoulders of a man who was still facing the window.

Feeling the touch of a boy he heard approaching, Harry twisted his neck to welcome him, a wide grin on his face that almost got lost in the darkness but not quite. Placing his own hands on top of Louis’, the man leaned his head back, nuzzling already dishevelled hair against his friend’s belly.

“What are you doing here, sitting in the dark?” The teen inquired, genuinely curious as right at the moment, he  _ might have been  _ accusing the man of insanity. “Thought you switched the bed because I was snoring too much.” Slipping his hands from underneath Harry’s, Louis busied himself with that mess of hair he had in front of himself, brushing them gently with his spread fingers both from pure fondness and in order to detangle it if only just a bit.

“You weren’t snoring.” Styles lied, voicing his appreciation towards this unexpected scalp massage with a barely there hum.

“I literally snored myself awake.”

Bashful after being called out on a lie, the man hid his face in both of his palms for a second, redeeming himself with a coy smile Louis was only able to see because his eyes started getting accustomed to the darkness. “It doesn’t bother me, it’s all.” His shoulders shrugged, halfway buried in the thick cushions of Anne’s sofa. “Couldn’t sleep, so I left before I could cuddle you to death.”

“What a way to go.” Louis’ chuckle transformed into a dry cough, only that reminding him of the scratching that got him out of bed in the first place, even before he was conscious enough to realise that Harry was missing from the bed. “You’re just not tired enough.” With that remark, the boy untangled his fingers and left for the kitchen.

“Perhaps.” He heard as he filled a glass with tap water, downing it as if he was dying of dehydration, not having a slight scratch in his throat. “You, on the other hand… out like a light.”

Sighing after doubling the first glass even if he didn’t necessarily need it, Louis felt a hand resting on his waist, Harry apparently deeming himself an essential companion to washing the glass that was drank from. “This was the most physical labour I’ve done in my life, and I wish I was joking.”

“Spoiled.” The scoff settled on the nape of Lou’s neck, raising goosebumps over his skin that was now being kissed, Harry’s plush lips just barely brushing the surface.

Not gracing the insult with as little as a word, even though he was aware it was neither unjustified nor malicious, the teen just left the kitchen, abandoning his friend as he headed for the bedroom just as he emerged from it, alone.

Alone he hasn’t remained for a whole lot, the door to Styles’ bedroom creaking as the brunette slipped into the room mere seconds after Louis got the chance to sit back on the bed, cuddling a pillow to his chest as he waited for sleep to come back and claim him as the brief exchange in the kitchen fully rid him of the haze.

“What is this?” He laughed, feeling the lips returning to the exact place where Harry kissed his neck previously, the man fully embracing him from behind as they sat on his bed. “Is Jesus asleep now?”

“Mhm.” A low grumble of response washed a wave of excitement over the boy’s body, Louis making a quick work of ridding himself of his own tee when he felt Harry’s fingers struggling to get it off. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

The only appropriate response seemed to be a scoff, and that’s exactly what Louis did, he scoffed. Of course, he was very appreciative of the concern about his rest, but it was all too late to ask, not when he was back to being all worked up from the gentlest of touches on his bare chest, every contact of Harry’s lips with his skin sending a shiver through his whole body, one that he was certain his partner felt.

So, taking it as a no, the taller one didn’t waste a second before he manhandled his smaller friend to the middle of his bed, hanging himself above the boy who now that he was so close to getting exactly what he wanted this whole time… found himself surprisingly uncertain of his moves.

He laid there, giving it all to the kisses that at the moment, felt like the most important thing he had to do, even if he sort of treated it as a means to postpone the inevitable. It was so dumb. His trembling hands anchored at the nape of Harry’s neck, his clenched throat… all of it, it belonged to a virgin, which he obviously wasn’t for quite a while already, though right now, he was pretty sure his nerves were surpassing the ones he felt during his first time.

With no way to back out, not that his motivation behind calling quits would have any logical grounds apart from the unjustified stress, he let himself be handled however Harry wanted him, still putting effort in the kisses they were exchanging, but purposefully placing himself on that rather submissive position until the confidence that was running late catches up to him.

It didn’t do that when Harry slid down his friend’s torso, kissing what felt like every tiniest bit of skin on the teen’s stomach, fingers busy with grazing the boy’s sides, which the man just  _ had to  _ know would make his partner crazy, already aware that this was Tomlinson’s hotspot for tickles.

There was this question in Lou’s head, one that he tried to push back since there wasn’t enough resources in his brain to dedicate even a sliver of space to pondering over such idiotic topics. Still, he decided to inquire what changed Harry’s mind later, his eagerness in nipping and kissing his friend’s skin very unmatching the initial hesitancy that led to decline that, at the moment, sounded rather definite.

Now, there wasn’t really a way this resistance could’ve been all that firm after all. Giggling, something so youthful in the sound that emerged from him despite his utmost determination to keep it contained, Louis, once again, rid his partner of the very t-shirt he struggled off him before, its resting place on the floor not that far from the initial one.

Nerves were still taking a toll on his ability to enjoy what he was now getting into. With his hands still trembling, Lou reached for the waistband of Harry’s pants, heavy breaths mixing with the fresh air the opened window so graciously provided. Had it not been for the chilly breeze from the outside, he would more than likely have already caught in flames with how hot his body felt at the moment.

‘Calm down, you’ve done this before.’ A mantra was repeated in his head, fingers still shyly resting on the waistband, Harry visibly waiting for him to continue so they could cut to the chase. He  _ has  _ done that. Not only did he get him undressed just a few hours before, but also all that time before when he had to literally wrestle drunk Harry’s body out of his clothing.

It was familiar, he knew how to do it and yet… it didn’t really help. Seeing second thoughts clouding Styles’ expression, very obviously a reaction to his own behaviour, he did what was expected of him. And with some awkward kicking of Harry’s long legs, the bottoms of his outfit shortly joined the black top on the floor, leaving him only clad in boxers, therefore matching the amount of articles of clothing on him with the boy underneath him who was at disadvantage, wearing his pyjamas when the whole thing started.

“Well that’s not Louis I had here two hours ago.” Harry laughed, back to teasing Lou’s neck with his teeth. “Don’t be nervous, we can still stop if that’s what you want.” Reading his friend’s demeanour correctly, he tailored his response accordingly.

How could he be so clear-minded right at the moment? Louis had no idea. He only knew that in Styles’ situation, he would never be able to restrain himself enough to back out. That’s where the two of them were different, it seemed.

As much as he still felt the nerves consuming him, he was absolutely certain he didn’t want to stop, absolutely not. After all, this was what he was waiting for practically ever since he met Harry, how stupid he would have to be to back out now? Not to mention that if he did, in fact, asked for them to postpone, there would be no certainty when and  _ if  _ they would get this far again, his hesitance more likely than not, putting his partner off the thought of ever sleeping with him.

So, he shook his head, a bit too frantically not to seem absolutely pathetic, pulling Harry closer as the man was still measuring him with his gaze, an unsettling frown on his face. “No, no…” His words mixed with a sigh he let slip past his lips at the feeling of brunette’s lips on his sensitive nipple, more of the same thing chasing the initial silent moan when after a bit of an adventure, his partner fell into a routine that was exactly what the boy needed at the moment.

Somewhere between the left nipple and the right one, the teen too preoccupied to pinpoint the exact moment when it happened, Harry’s hand slipped in between his legs, cupping the stiffy Lou already sported, applying gentle pressure as he palmed the boy through his underwear.

The touch danced somewhere at the border of pleasure and discomfort, the drag of dry cotton over his skin the only thing that prevented the boy from spontaneously combusting, a nice anchor holding him conscious enough of the surroundings to keep himself at bay.

It was too hot, it shouldn’t be  _ this  _ hot, it had never been like that. His skin might as well have caught in flames when Harry pressed his lips lower and lower on his midsection, Louis a proper mess when, very eager to continue, his friend laid the last peck on his hip bone, hooking the elastic of Lou’s briefs with his index fingers.

Even if he was smiling, just a shadow of this expression catching Tomlinson’s eye in borderline pitch black room, there was something hesitant in Harry’s eyes, a question he left unsaid, taking the hands Louis extended in a failed attempt at touching him as enough of an answer that the boy had, at last, came to want this just as much as he did.

One forceful pull on the fabric, snapping of threads holding the boxers together as they were struggled off Lou’s hips and tossed on the floor, and the boy was left naked, vulnerable and submitting to whatever it was that Harry desired.

Strangely, he was not nervous anymore, just… he couldn’t even describe what it was. There was a certain dose of trepidation lingering in the back of his head, just hoping he wasn’t making a complete fool out of himself, if he was adequate, enough. Every complex he might have had at any point of his life resurfaced as he laid there.

It wasn’t a mystery how stupid it was of him to worry so much about how he looked. Harry would have to possess some sort of supernatural sight to even notice those few stretchmarks on his hips, or that scar he had on the side of his ribs that apparently was deemed his biggest problem by that dumb brain of his. There was no way he found his body repulsive, not when his eyes screamed adoration when their gazes met briefly once the older one decided to check if his partner was still on board with all of this.

And he was.  _ Fuck,  _ he was. Even more so when he felt a palm slipping in between his thighs, parting them to give Harry easier access to all the places he had yet to discover.

Louis let himself sink into the bunched up duvet he was laying on, humming softly once he felt fingers sliding up his thighs, cutting through the thinnest layer of sweat that unbearable heat pulled from his body. And then, Harry was back where Lou’s head laid, kissing the boy like he never kissed him before, hands busy with keeping himself stable, the second one curled around his partner’s girth, fluid, leisurely flicks of his wrist sending encouragement to Tomlinson’s hardening cock.

It seemed as though he was able to read every soft moan that was lost in his own mouth and tweak his movements into a routine that gave the teen the most pleasure, at least according to how the body below him reacted to being touched in such an intimate way.

All Louis could think at the moment, at least apart from wondering how in the hell Harry knew exactly how to get him off, was that he had to do something very good in his life, even if he hasn’t realised that. Maybe God existed and, right in that moment, decided to make it up to him for all the misfortunes he lived through, maybe he was going to die in the next twenty-four hours and this was his last hurrah… he would be at peace with that, really.

The glorious touch down between his legs disappeared, and the urgency in Harry’s kiss declined for a reason unknown to his partner. Only when he heard a thud of a drawer hitting the base of the nightstand, he realised what was happening. Styles rose to his knees and involved both of his hands in the task of unpacking a fresh bottle of lube and a box of condoms.

Relaxed, Louis chuckled at the way Harry’s fingers clumsily fumbled with the foil, eventually resorting to using his teeth to rid of the packaging. “Thank God.” He commented, twisting the bottle in his fingers. “Was sort of expecting we’ll have to go with spit.”

Yeah… with how spontaneous he thought the whole thing was, he was halfway ready for them to go full-on primal. Turned out it wasn't as random as the teen thought it was. “Gas station.” Harry snickered, finally freeing the strip of condoms from its box, setting the paraphernalia next to Lou’s head. “What can I say, I’m responsible like that.”

“Hot.” The teen whispered, letting himself be kissed again. “Am I ever going to see you naked… or?” Yeah, his patience ran out completely a few minutes into him being all naked and Harry still dressed, though the boxers he was wearing could hardly be deemed attire in the first place.

“Do I have tooo?” Complaint loud and clear in his voice, his head ducking in to tease his partner’s bottom lip with his teeth. “It looks like we might be able to get you there without much of my involvement.”

Frowning furiously, not appreciating being made fun of quite like that, Louis rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Off.” This time, he demanded, not asked. And sure enough, Harry complied, not without that stupidly huge grin on his face though. “Yes…” The boy whispered to himself, comparing the man before him to the one he visualised all these times before.

Overall, he thought he was rather close, at the end of the day there wasn’t all that much possible variation. Taking in all the things he got wrong, making sure to remember the man just like that, he grazed his fingers over Harry’s bare shoulder blade as the man was now sitting on the edge of the bed, leaving the boy feeling desperate and abandoned, the clearest giveaway of his state embarrassingly angry perched atop his navel.

“Would you please, graciously lay on your belly for me?” Deciding to ignore that obviously mocking politeness he was addressed with, Louis flipped, because really, why wouldn’t he? “Thank you.” He shuffled to the middle of the bed, slipping a hand under Lou’s thighs to pull him up a bit. “These pants you keep wearing don’t do you any justice.”

“Don’t they now?” The teen laughed, pressing his elbows into the mattress to stabilise himself. “They’re comfy though.”

“They are, aren’t they?”

Louis might have lost his breath for a second, not entirely expecting to be vulnerable in a way he now laid exposed, Harry’s fingers digging into the flesh of his cheeks, spreading him apart to grant himself access to what he wanted the most. A low grunt, almost grumble vibrated against the pillow his face was pushed into in reaction to an intrusive finger that just barely grazed over his most sensitive spot. “Oof…” Facing towards the window, the teen gulped two breaths in quick succession, sort of waiting for Harry to continue, even if he couldn’t think of a way how in the hell he was going to survive all of this. “I wasn’t expecting…  _ that. _ ” His chuckle was very obviously nervous, resulting in Styles snickering as well, that gust of air that pooled on Louis' skin, proved him to be far closer than the boy expected him to be.

His fingers clutched on the pillow he was smothering himself with, the first contact just the tip of Harry’s tongue made with his rim enough to make him shiver. It didn’t end with that, of course, it didn't. Bolder, encouraged by the reaction he got to barely even having a taste of Louis, the brunette dove deeper, using the flat of his tongue to slicken the very object of his interest with warm saliva collected on his tongue.

“What did you expect?” Harry laughed, his breath enough stimulation to continue the series of shivers that ran, in a continuous streak through the teen’s body. “A spanking?”

Well… no, not  _ that _ . Now that he thought about it, it didn’t sound nearly as bad as it should. “N-no.” The boy mumbled, his tongue suddenly too stiff to allow him to speak, much unlike Harry’s that just now started drilling into him with utmost determination.

What did he expect? He didn’t know, at least not completely. He sort of expected Harry to just… take what he wanted, and leave him feeling like a piece of shit, which now… after he thought about it very briefly, didn’t sound like Harry at all. If he had enough brain capacity to even think about something else than Harry’s tongue on him, fingers spreading him apart so he could do as diligent of a job as it was possible, he would feel bad, so bad for even accusing the man above him of being capable of such behaviour.

But he didn’t, especially not when the cap of the lube bottle clicked and soon after, he felt the cold wetness on himself, so different from the warmth of the tongue that was now taken away from him, much to his discontentment. Soon after, a finger pressed on the rim Harry just barely managed to loosen with his tongue, breaking through the tight seal. “Okay?” Styles inquired, reacting to the breathy sigh that made it through the layer of feathers filling the pillow.

“Yeah…” The boy cried out, needing a second to adjust to as little as half of Harry’s finger after not getting this sort of attention for quite as long as it was since he ventured there with his vibrator for the last time. Oh what a glorious return it was. “Go on.”

And Harry listened, because why wouldn’t he, working the finger in and out of his partner, driven by the sighs that Tomlinson wanted to stifle but simply wasn’t able to. Adding a second finger, just slightly hesitant when he heard a hiss from the direction he paid extra attention to. He was just about to withdraw and end the whole thing in a different way when Lou’s whole body relaxed at once, face slouching deeper into the duvet, hips jerking higher, body reacting before he even got the chance to give that order.

Giving himself into the feeling of being spread open for the main event, the sheer awareness of it approaching sparking excitement in the teen’s body, he pushed back at the fingers he felt so deep in himself, just barely brushing his prostate every so often, one of these contacts colliding with Harry’s endeavour at Lou’s erection, hanging heavy in between his spread, thighs. “Not a great idea…” He opposed to the touch. As good as it felt right there, that familiar pull in the pit of his stomach told him he was getting dangerously close to spoiling the rest of the night with how pathetically desperate for Harry he was.

“Oh, okay… yeah.” The man’s fingers curled in the way that almost had Louis howling, which was just a dick move after he’s just been warned about what might happen if he overstimulates the boy. Maybe he liked to skip around the point of no return, maybe he was just a piece of shit… that was yet to be determined.

It wasn’t long after Louis clenched in surprise after the third finger joined the party, that the whole three was withdrawn and Harry, without a trace of actual strain, twisted the desperate boy so his back was pressed to the duvet.

Impatient, Louis ripped a condom from the strip and opened it with his teeth. Only when he was already rolling the thing onto Styles’ erection, very prominent as a result of not being tended to, he realised it was the first time he touched Harry like that… with his hands at least. When that thought settled in the back of his head, that’s when his fingers started trembling again even if he,  _ technically _ , knew what he was doing.

And Harry… laughed, snickered more like, leaning in to steal a quick kiss, using his clean hand to rub his friend’s cheek, reassuring him a bit. “Why are you so nervous? This whole thing was your idea.” He hasn’t moved any further, waiting for Tomlinson to state that he is certain that he wants to proceed.

What was an appropriate answer to this question? Louis didn’t know. What he knew though, was that he wanted it as much as he did before, but he was an idiot like that and became stressed if he’s going to live up to all the promises he made of his immaculate skill. No, not even that… he knew he was not, if only for the fact that he was still pretty much asleep at the moment.

Admitting his insecurities was probably the worst thing he could do, so he didn’t, busying himself with the lube bottle he now squeezed, making sure to rub his fingers together to warm it up to save his partner a shock. With his eyes stuck to his main focus at the moment, at least a part of it, he let himself stroke Harry’s cock a few times before both of them were ready.

The question was left unanswered as Louis was now busy scrambling onto his knees, straddling his partner’s lap once again this evening. His hands rested on Harry’s shoulders, the boy using them to balance himself as he, without as much as a warning, lined himself up, feeling the blunt head of Harry’s dick press against his rim for a second or two.

His breath shaky, Tomlinson leaned to kiss the man, and somehow, this simple kiss, not all that heated in their current situation, was the most intimate thing the two of them have ever done, but maybe that was just Louis' thing and Harry was not on board with that statement at all.

Taking the pads of Harry’s fingers, digging into his skin as encouragement, he lowered himself, letting the slicked head slip inside and then some, stilling just to let himself get used to all of it. “Okay…” He huffed against his partner’s ear and slid down until his body told him no, even if there was still some of Harry to take in.

Soon after, he was all ready to begin, his thighs involved in a task of bouncing him on Harry’s cock. He started slow until he got more confident in his movements. It was the very man who was now stuck inside of him that encouraged him so much, even if he might have not been aware of the fact that he was doing just that.

With every time he lowered himself onto Harry’s lap, he was pushing his body’s limits further and further, until he fully had the brunette sheathed inside of him, stretching him in that familiar way, so pleasurable yet strangely bordering on painful.

Styles’ eyes were closed, mouth busy nipping at Lou’s sweat-slicked neck as he let the boy do the job for them both, keeping Louis level as he bounced somehow clumsily, very obviously tired, perhaps not as much as before he took that nap, but still.

Moving his hands to Tomlinson’s back, Harry finally moved his hips, pulling out of the boy who, as tired as he managed to get, didn’t appreciate his partner withdrawing. Harry laid him on the duvet, fitting himself in between his thighs, spread in invitation to dive back where he left off. That's exactly what he did. 

“Fuck…” Louis moaned, his face burrowed in his partner’s collarbone, hands clinging to the stretch of his back until they were flush together. The brunette was thrusting his hips in a fixed rhythm, hands occupied with keeping himself from collapsing onto his lover, not seeing how this delicate pretty boy would even survive this kind of weight falling down on him.

With a series of breathy ‘ohs’, each and every bold press at his prostate concluded by one, Tomlinson threw his head back, feeling himself getting overwhelmed with all the stimulation. There was no way in hell he would be able to even guess how long Harry’s been going for, he could only hope that it was long enough that he wouldn’t make a fool out of himself if he gave up and stopped denying himself the orgasm on the very edge of which he was balancing for a while now. The borderline abuse of his tender spot, a blunt press at the bundle of nerves concluding each thrust of Harry’s pelvis, didn't make the task any easier.

Harry seemed to have caught onto him, something Louis hasn’t expected with them being in this situation for the first time, but he lifted himself, seeking more freedom in his movements, immediately picking up a faster tempo, pounding into his friend relentlessly, chasing his own climax. Desperate not to leave Tomlinson wanting, he let himself capture Lou’s engorged length and synchronised his wrist with the thrusts of his hips, watching in adoration how absolutely lost in the thrill of it all his partner was, his high whines mixing with the panting of the man above him.

He was close and so was Louis, his state given away by how he was clenching around the cock he had buried inside of him, only bringing the whole sensation together to the top, who dipped his head to place a kiss on the boy’s lips.

With a firmer squeeze to Louis’ cock, Harry felt it twitch in his hand that a second or two after, was already soiled with come. He didn’t even have to see it, the sole idea of making the boy beneath him this writhing, whimpering mess so hot, it made his own orgasm catch up to him, spilling into the condom with a low growl muffled against Lou’s dewy skin.

They needed a second… an hour rather to let their breaths calm down at least to the point where they would provide enough oxygen to their exhausted bodies. That’s why Harry just lingered above his partner, back to exchanging kisses that surely did no favours for their breathing, but that seemed to be a secondary matter at the very moment.

Heaving chests pressed against each other with every unsynchronised gulp of air they caught, they were stuck in each other’s eyes, glazed over and borderline absent until Harry decided to call it and pulled out of his friend, wrapping the condom in a tissue and carelessly tossing it to the floor to deal with it in the morning.

“I don’t want to get up.” Louis whined, still rolling himself towards the edge of the bed.

There wasn’t a lot of space in between them… no space at all really, so Harry didn’t have to stretch his hand all that much to set it just above Louis’ knee, dragging the tips of his fingers over the dewy skin there. “Then don’t.” His shoulders shrugged.

“Gross.” And with that remark, Tomlinson was up, stumbling just a bit as his legs seemed to agree with Harry on that matter. . “I don’t think my legs should be doing this.”

“You’re welcome.” A chuckle was the last thing he heard before he left the room, heading for the bathroom that as close as it was most of the time, now seemed like a whole mile he had to walk to get himself decent.

“A bit of privacy would be nice.” Louis sighed once Harry strutted into the bathroom like he owned the place, which he  _ technically  _ did, but common courtesy with which, on usual, he didn't seem to be alien, would tell him to wait until Louis was done.

And of course, the complaint was completely disregarded, Harry washing his hands thoroughly with soap. “I’d think after all that you wouldn’t mind me here. I’ve got myself all slobbered up.” His head ducked into the basin where he rinsed his face off, not bothering wiping the water off before he moved to brushing his teeth, clearly exhausted.

And…  _ yeah _ , but also not at all. Louis could hardly see how Harry seeing him wiping himself down, would be beneficial to the romance that was barely sprouting. That whole thing was more five years into marriage, not a week into… whatever it was that they were doing. 

The toothbrush still in his mouth, the brunette let his eyes hang on the friend whose head leaned on the wall right next to the window, eyelids falling closed as he relished in the feeling that he could finally breathe properly. “Should I crash on my mom’s bed or…”

This truly outrageous question was enough to snap the boy out of it. “I didn’t just let you fuck me for you not to give me a cuddle.” His head shook as he approached the sink, washing his hands off the grime and calling it a night, postponing a proper shower for the morning.

Soon after, they were laying again, half of Lou’s body thrown over Harry’s. Neither was sleeping and as much as both were very aware of that, nobody was speaking until the softest of snores tickled Harry’s bare chest and then, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't really planned that, but I guess it's convenient that this one went up on Christmas. If you survived the 14k words that this chapter carried- congratulations. As always I am open to any feedback, it does a lot in terms of motivation.  
> From the worse news, I think I might start uploading once a week. I've been feeling super uninspired lately and I'm running out of pre-written chapters, apart from that the exam session is coming at Uni and I really need to get my shit together if I don't want to drop out so... yeah. Sorry about that, I'll see how the writing goes throughout the Christmas break and make the final decision then.  
> I think it's all I have to say for now. Happy Holidays to whoever is celebrating, keep tight and tpwk.  
> (I've cancelled grammarly so if i let any stupid mistakes slip- im so sorry!)


	14. Chapter 14

“Shit, fuck… Goddamnit!” A nice little bundle was drawn through clenched teeth once Louis caught balance after  _ almost  _ losing his life as he slipped on the floor he was responsible for wetting in the first place. He had only himself to blame for splashing bath water all over it, maybe  _ slightly  _ overfilling the tub he laid in for solid half an hour, only adding more hot water to maintain the temperature he chose for this morning.

He wasn’t entirely sure if Harry’s water conservation plan was back in effect after he pampered his friend into the event that concluded their sleepover, not exactly certain that this was even his intention to begin with or just something that happened organically, but he still risked it, feeling like he both needed and deserved it.

One way or another, nobody was there to catch him in the act even if he was doing something bad, which he wasn’t.

Waking up alone wasn’t something his self-esteem appreciated after exposing the most intimate side of himself to Harry, though he couldn’t claim that it was something he wasn’t familiar with. To the contrary, it was painfully reminiscent of all of the times he was left to gather his things and leave after a casual hook-up, which only made it worse.

And  _ sure _ , he knew that even if his friend wanted nothing to do with him after last night, the reason why he wouldn’t not something Louis came up with in his sleepy haze, it wouldn’t be an easy thing for him to achieve with them spending hours upon hours around each other at any given day. Now that he was thinking about it… there wasn’t always a logical reason why he was dropped, rendered to a function of a whore, unpaid one too which was, paradoxically enough, insulting him both more and less than if he got financial gratification for his performance.

He might have sighed in relief once he got up and found a slip of paper on the pillow, one that he scrunched with his head when he must’ve turned once he realised there was more space for him to claim after Harry left. It was for him, of course, a whole-hearted apology in handwriting he was familiar with, stating that the brunette had left to run an errand or two, promising to get back as soon as possible, hopefully before Louis even wakes to serve him breakfast in bed.

As these things sometimes go, his plan didn’t exactly pan out, very fucking obviously Louis was holding the very note Harry probably intended to toss the second he gets back to his friend still sleeping in his bed. Too bad…

Rubbing sleep off his eyes, Louis got up completely, heading for the bathroom that with bright light flooding every nook of Anne’s house, wasn’t nearly as difficult to locate as it was last night in complete darkness.

Seeing himself in the big mirror that did no favours to his current presence, all he dreamed of was drowning himself in the very tub he stood next to, the bags underneath his eyes and the matted hair hopeless enough he couldn’t see himself redeeming this situation anywhere soon, not with the limited resources he had.

Thinking about the lopsided smiley face that concluded the note he miraculously was able to read so soon after waking up, he decided to spare Harry the horror of finding his lifeless body in his mother’s bathroom, trying not to remind himself that finding him alive in the state he was currently in was not all that better than encountering his floating cadaver.

Having already deemed a solid bath the one thing with the biggest potential to better his horrid presence, he plugged the drain and pulled the tap open, steaming water cascading into the receptacle as he stood, brushing the taste of his mouth away with minty toothpaste.

And of course, he got too distracted, still not yet able to keep a cap on both actions at once so early in the… morning (???). He wanted to say it was morning but, to be honest, he was clueless what time it could've been. So…  _ yeah _ , he  _ might have  _ overfilled the bath, not taking into account the volume his body was going to add, learning that lesson a hard way as the water splashed around the rim of the tub once he lowered himself into it.

Well… oops? Sure that nothing would happen if he cleaned his mess later, he drained a bit of water and let himself relax in the sweet scent of something he poured into the bath in hopes it was the same thing Harry used to get the water all bubbly last night… it was not.

A pained groan rumbled in his throat once a slight sting in his backside reminded him of the events of last night, and he shifted to the side, so now he was laying on his thigh rather than on his bum, which… helped, but only a little.

Only when his skin almost dissolved in hot bath, he decided to end it, making a quick work of sloppily collecting the water with a mop Anne left in the bathroom for one reason or another, leaving a fair share of moisture to dry in the heat of the… morning (???), he honestly had no clue.

And of course, he regretted it as soon as he slipped, his reflexes, while slowed down with the lingering drowsiness, still leaving him snappy enough to grab onto the edge of the counter the sink was settled in and save the life he didn’t want to lose. At the very least not like...  _ that _ .

Hearing the familiar roar that couldn’t have been confused with any other vehicle in the whole town, he rushed through the rest of his routine, not even bothering with making a stop at Harry’s bedroom to put some clothes on, parading into the main part of the one-storey house with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Let’s hope Anne won’t be too mad at me but I might have let myself use her body wash again.” He declared from the corridor, pressing his wrist against his nostrils, drawing a breath to smell his skin as he headed towards the source of the clattering- the kitchen. “I smell like a proper cupcake, and I probably shouldn’t dig it as much as I do. Oh-“

His heart might have sunk to the very toes of his feet once he made a turn into the kitchen and found exactly who he suspected to come across there- Harry. That was something he was prepared for, strutting into the kitchen with that slight limp in his step that he was praying wasn’t as obvious as he thought it was once his eyes fell on Anne, who turned out to be the very source of that noise that brought the teen into the kitchen in the first place.

Tossing a very familiar pan Louis watched Albert sneak into one of the cartons Harry and he moved just two days ago, adding the object to the pile of similarly old and useless stuff, Anne returned to unpacking one of her father’s boxes, apparently deciding that a second inspection was necessary. The heap on top of the kitchen table only further supported her claim.

Two very similar grins were plastered to both brunettes’ faces while Louis stood there, blushing and very exposed, even if he wasn’t exactly being stared at by the one person he really didn’t want to look at him.

“I bet she wouldn’t mind.” The woman broke the silence that as brief as it was, the hands of the clock skipping maybe five times in the process, had Louis wish he was dying at least three thousand times. “I wouldn’t have my worst enemy use the stuff this one tortures his poor skin with.” She smiled at Louis, not even acknowledging his exhibitionism with a judgemental look. What an angel of a woman… It must run in their genes, Louis thought.

Harry huffed a breath from above the bread he was cutting with a serrated knife, his attitude giving Tomlinson all the grounds to assume that he rolled his eyes as well, though he didn’t see that happen. “People have been using bar soap for like five thousand years.” He claimed. “Your liquid soap started being a thing when? A century ago? I’ll hardly deem it more reliable than my option.”

There was no way Louis could even come close to fact checking his friend’s statement, but something in the utmost confidence with which Harry declared the argument in favour of his old faithful, and the abundance of useless random knowledge he so often showed off in random conversations, made the teen lay his trust in these words, still not being completely sure how did that make Ivory soap the better option.

“That’s called improvement.” The boy chimed in, leaning on a frame leftover from the door that must’ve been there at some point, his hands crossed on his chest, sending prayers to the big man up above to keep the knot on the towel tight enough so he doesn’t embarrass himself even more this morning. Yeah, noon was still morning. Sort of… not really. “Mobile phones have been around for like a decade and somehow I don’t see you ever using landline.”

“Touche.” With a single nod of his head, Styles acknowledged the argument as a viable one. “Though I’d hardly say they’re better than the olden ways.” A crease settled in between his eyebrows as he focused on chopping spring onions on the bare counter. “It’s expensive and a total waste of time, that’s what it is.”

Louis would’ve agreed with him if he wasn’t fighting this battle for Anne and himself. As fond of his phone as he was, the device locked up in whichever drawer of his father’s office, he found himself having far more time on his hands once his phone was taken away from him.

A loud thud of a cutting board Anne tossed just to the side of her son’s hands snapped the boy out of it. “I told you what is going to happen if I find a single scratch on my counter, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah. You haven’t though, so there’s no need to get violent.” Harry still took the board and utilised it, not returning to the topic of the brief exchange Anne concluded for them.

“I thought he’d reconsider after I’ve picked up something better for him, but of course, he won’t listen to his mother. Stubborn, just like his father…” The mother’s head shook, both to give her words a bit more punch and in reaction to another object long past its prime that she added to the pile of garbage she was sure her father wouldn’t realise was missing.

And Harry scoffed, clearly not appreciating being addressed as if he wasn’t in the room. “For the same amount of money, I have soap to last me at least five times as long as your fancy wash did, so it really just comes down to being responsible with money, which I obviously didn’t inherit from you either.” He snickered under his nose at that rather harmless jab he took at his mum in retaliation.

“Let’s hope you have not inherited the tendency for wrinkles from you dad either. If that’s the case, I have some bad news for you.” She chimed in, eyes focused on some sort of decorative plate she was scratching a sticker off of. “And I can assure you, you won’t buy yourself a Cadillac with all that money you’re saving right now.”

“We’ll see about that.” Harry turned, winking at the woman as he made a beeline for the fridge, taking a carton of eggs out of it. “I think my skin is doing just fine.” A meaningful look was thrown at Louis, who was aware of the flush that returned to his cheeks mere seconds after the first wave of it left his face.

Yeah… Tomlinson could almost feel the soft, almost buttery texture of Harry’s skin, a phantom sensation under his fingertips leftover from the night before. He wanted it back, even if him approaching to graze his fingers to compare his memory to the real thing was the last thing he could do at the moment.

So, he stood and watched for a second, Harry cutting up something on the counter, Anne moving to another box of the few she had yet to unpack. With a frown on her face and a sigh pushed out of her lungs, she tossed it against the wall when she found her deceased mother’s clothing she felt she had no reason to keep anymore, apparently her opinion on that matter contrasting with her father’s.

Suddenly reminding himself of how underdressed he was, especially considering that he was not dressed at all, Louis mumbled that he’s going to put something on and left, quickly stomping his way to Harry’s bedroom where he intended to stay… forever, suspecting how his initial demeanour made the whole situation look like in Anne’s eyes.

She wouldn’t even be wrong if she assumed the exact thing any sane person would accuse them of after witnessing Louis strut into her kitchen in the manner he did just a few minutes before. He might as well have looked her straight in the eyes and declared that he’s just been dicked down by her son, which was…  _ fine _ , Harry was an adult and she had to know he wasn’t keeping himself for marriage or whatever, but it still wasn’t something he felt comfortable with the woman knowing, especially that he was rather fond of her.

Long after getting dressed, he still sat on Harry’s single bed, one that he made from the lack of anything better to do with his time. His head was back on the pillow, though his legs dangled off the bed as he waited for… he didn’t even know what. What he knew though, was that he wasn’t going to leave until he’s dragged out of that room by his still damp hair, even if all the reasons why he was so embarrassed were a result of his overthinking.

Nobody summoned him though, thank god. Not that long after the teen settled himself on the bed, even if it felt for him like he spent an eternity there already, Harry appeared with a tray, delivering on the promise of breakfast in bed after all, perhaps not in a way he intended, but still.

Settling the tray between himself and Louis, he reached for a piece of toast he very obviously took a bite of before his arrival. “Had to improvise with mom rearranging the entire kitchen to fit three more things in the cupboards.” He chuckled, his friend already chewing on a piece of locally smoked bacon. “I didn’t think she would be back so early.”

“This is way better than what I’m used to getting the morning after.” Louis’ eyes closed as he chewed a perfect bite of the scrambled eggs he was served. No shell, so Styles’ version instantly jumped to the very top of all the ones he ever had a chance of tasting. “This is everything I didn’t know I needed.”

“If this is what gets such a reaction… I don’t know what to tell you, you’re clearly dating all the wrong people.”

_ Yeah… _ he was. Well,  _ sorry!  _ It’s not like New York is full of people like Harry, getting off on spoiling their partners rotten. He wished that was the case, he really did, but it wasn’t, so he had to make do with what was available since celibate wasn’t exactly an idea he was very excitedd about. “Usually I’d get a McGriddle or something.” The part of the confession that he was the one who got himself that breakfast during the walk of shame was purposefully omitted, not something that filled him with pride. “Which is  _ fine,  _ I don’t really mind some garbage food, but this is where it’s at.” A few other bites were chased with orange juice, the boy realising how hungry he was only when he devoured half of his breakfast in what felt like a matter of a few seconds. “I’m at peace with this being my last meal before I die of embarrassment.”

Harry looked at him like he was a crazy person, which he probably was, to be honest. His eyes blinked a few times, hand sweeping to the floor the few crumbs of the toast that settled on his chin. “You’re fine.” He declared as if he knew better than the boy who still was beating himself up for not considering that Anne might have come back, it was her house after all. “Nothing happened.”

“Oh, something  _ did  _ happen.” Louis groaned around the bite of buttered bread, adding the last piece of bacon he had left before he swallowed. “And she knows exactly what.”

There really wasn’t a way she didn’t, and both of them knew that, though their attitudes towards Anne being in on the thing they, from the start, agreed to keep secret, seemed to be as different as they could.

“It’s  _ fine. _ ” The brunette insisted as if it was going to become true if he repeats himself enough. Finished with eating, he laid in the very spot he spent the night in, letting his right palm wander under Louis’ tee-shirt, absentmindedly reaching to graze his fingers over the small of the boy’s back. “She’s happy for me.”

“So, you told her?” How else would he know his mother’s opinion, right?

“No.” His head shook as much as the pillow allowed it. “But I haven’t denied it when she asked. I never lied to her and I’m not going to start now.”

Louis could only groan because that was such a Harry thing to do… He made it seem like a bad thing only because if he wouldn’t consider his friend’s honesty something negative in any other aspect, he could really live without Anne, whom he considered his friend already, knowing that the two of them slept together and did… all of that, no actual name for the sort of arrangement they had since friends with benefits didn’t even seem to cut it.

_ Slightly  _ inconvenienced by the awareness of Anne’s knowledge, adding up to how uncomfortable he already felt in the woman’s house this morning, Louis hid his face in his hands, groaning with how powerless he was, nothing he could do about their whole plan crumbling mere days after they even kicked off their thing.

Hooking his hand around the teen’s elbow, Harry pulled him onto himself, the boy’s head falling onto the chest of a man who started stroking his bare arm in soothing motion. “I hate this.” Louis moaned, squirming as he laid in his friend’s embrace.

And Harry knew that nothing he could say would make any of this better for Louis, but deemed his silence more detrimental to the atmosphere than pointless reassurance. “Don’t overthink it. She might just think you’re a bit of a slut, parading around her house with your ass barely covered.” He laughed, digging his fingers in between Lou’s ribs so he laughed as well, though the pain that he felt slightly deformed his usual chuckle.

And then, a gentle knock pulled them away from each other, Tomlinson back to sitting on an instant, seemingly very interested in the last of Harry’s already cold bacon he left unfinished. “Come in.” The man crooned, still stretched on the narrow half of his mattress and soon enough, Anne entered the room.

“Could I ask you to do me a favour before you head off to Ada’s?” She asked immediately, standing at the door. 

Harry shrugged his shoulders, even if she couldn’t exactly see the movement as Lou’s slouched silhouette obstructed the view of her son. “Depends how big of a favour.”

“I just want the boxes gone from the kitchen.” She sighed, clearly already done with unpacking what she deemed necessary. “Take them downstairs for me if you could, God knows he’ll throw a fit if I actually get rid of anything.”

“Sure, I’ll take them to the basement before we leave.” He agreed and with that, Anne left them alone, Louis pulled back into his previous spot in the matter of seconds. “Oh, she knows.” The man chuckled deeply, Tomlinson’s groan contrasting with the reaction. “This might have been the first time she ever knocked on this door.”

Turning on his belly to hide the shame on his face, Louis nuzzled it against the side of Harry’s ribs, throwing a hand over his friend’s midsection somewhat tentatively, not exactly  _ relaxed  _ with a threat of being walked in on.

That sudden sense of awkwardness took a few years off his back, reminding him of the time when he only started exploring that whole new world of dating, making out in bedrooms of his more or less serious boyfriends under the cover of playing something on the Xbox or watching a movie. If sometimes he might have wished to be taken back in time, perhaps do something not to end up half as messed up as he was, he surely did not miss that fear of being caught dry-humping his boyfriend when his mother comes to ask whether they feel like having a Capri Sun or a sandwich, and this felt exactly the same.

His eyes fell closed, the boy relishing in the feeling of fingers grazing the very nape of his neck, soothing his anxiety quite a bit. “Let me call my dad real quick to fill him in on that thing we were not supposed to tell anybody about.” A sigh ruffled the material of the tee Harry was wearing.

“I’m not going to tell you no if that’s what you wish to do.” A shrug shook the two of them as they laid there, denying the fact that they probably should have gotten up a while ago. “And while I agree to take  _ some  _ of the blame for my mom finding out, I refuse to accept all of it.”

“Fair.” Louis acknowledged, Harry taking upon himself even a sliver of responsibility was already too generous when it was so very obviously entirely Louis' fault. 

“Get up, I’ve got to pack some things before we leave.”

Invigorated after being reminded of the fact that Harry was moving back into the farmhouse, excited by all the possibilities it opened for their newly transformed relationship, he hasn’t even stuttered before he jumped off the bed and rushed to help his friend collect a few things he brought back from Frank and Ada's when he decided to move out.

As reluctant as both of them were to leave, because it would put a definite end to the sleepover that turned out to be so much more than the expectations any of them had at the beginning of it, they had to go. It was late already and they had a whole list of chores to do, even if Harry took care of some of them already when he drove to the farm before Louis had a chance to wake up. So, while Tomlinson, in spite of Anne’s insisting that it wasn’t necessary, took care of the dishes that resulted from their breakfast, Styles took the boxes to the basement, then they said their quick goodbyes, promised to visit the hostess soon and drove away.

Delivering on the promise Louis made the day prior, Harry and he were already done exercising the first pair of horses. They didn’t find the time to take them out as much as they probably should over those few last days that were hectic to the point where the day didn’t seem long enough. Done with Icarus and Princess, the horse that Frank kept for other people in exchange for some additional funds to add to the budget every month, they were now trotting the same path they’ve already covered with their previous companions.

Being as familiar with the road as they already were, adding to that the leisurely tempo they’ve settled on for the sake of Grease and his limits, much to Raven’s disapproval, they could let themselves get distracted with conversation, which was exactly what they were currently doing.

“So, I’ve seen her resignation on dad’s desk. Even if I could barely read back then, I managed to connect the dots well enough to know that she was leaving me.” Tomlinson almost scoffed at the rest of the story he hasn’t even managed to finish. “And  _ naturally _ , I’ve done one thing any rational person would do, which was… hold on to your reins.” He warned Harry who was just to his side, not that much space separating Grease and Raven. “I professed my undying love, kissed her and proposed to her.”

And then, they were both laughing, eyes darting towards each other. Louis was gauging his friend’s reaction while Harry tested his companion’s sanity.

“Bullshit, none of that happened.” Styles tried to call him out on a lie, bluffing as if he knew how the whole thing played out.

“You better believe I promised to take care of her. Had a whole plastic ring I asked my friend to buy for me in a vending machine.” Still snickering, the boy concluded the tale of his favourite babysitter he lost around the age of eight, which really was way too late for him to be delusional to the point of pulling this kind of dumb shit, wasn’t it?

“And what did she do?”

“She broke my heart, that’s what she did.” The bitterness he spiced his words with was not nearly as severe as he tried to make it sound like it was. “She still took the ring, and I don’t exactly know how this works but I think this practically means I’m a married man.”

Shaking his head, the headband keeping his hair in check, Styles threw his friend an amused look. “Why do you think she declined?” He cocked his eyebrow in question. “I mean, you might have been eight, sure, but if she waited, she would be marrying a heir of whatever it is that your father owns. Fifteen years is not that big of an age difference is it?”

“Is this your motivation behind all of this?” Louis asked, obviously not serious about that accusation. “She decided to skip all the waiting and, as I’ve later found out, fucked my father, so I guess she might have followed the same logic.”

“And what did you think I was doing this for?” Harry’s scoff met with a roll of his companion’s eyes. “A bitter breakup seems like a thing I would quit a job over, no matter how much I liked it.”

“For it to be a breakup, there would have to be a relationship.” Tomlinson gave Grease a cue to speed up a bit, Raven picking his pace up without a single command from his owner. “Loved her to bits, but she was just way too naïve for New York.” His head shook, words louder to overpower tapping of the hooves on the ground. “Let herself get charmed by a vision of becoming my new mom or whatever. I’ll bet you all I have that he never saw her as anything more than a casual fuck.”

“Too bad you had to get your heart broken over it.” A strange mixture of a smile and a pout was what Lou encountered upon letting his eyes wander to the side for a brief second. “Getting your girl stolen by your father… How do you even recover from that?” His tone made it rather clear how serious he was in all of it. “He sure sounds like quite a character.”

“You should know better than be scared to call him an asshole around me.” Yeah… not when he had a whole catalogue of juicier names he utilised whenever a thought of his father popped into his head.

And of course, the thought of insulting the man in question hasn’t even as little as flashed in Harry’s head. “Has he ever dated somebody after your mom? You know, seriously?”

Three faces were brought back from the very depths of Lou’s memory on an instant when he was asked by his father’s love life. Well… four, but his mother was just there for no apparent reason other than being the baseline he always compared his dad’s next love interests to. Her face was exactly the same as on the picture he had in his bedroom for as long as he remembered, the deep-rooted visual he had of her, not something he had actual memory of.

There was Gina. Gina was a… Louis didn’t even know how to call her, really. She came into his life somewhere around the age of nine, when his father apparently decided that he was finally ready to get back out there and move on after losing his wife. She was… Honestly, she was his dad if he was born a woman.

She was tall and skinny, the blonde ponytail she  _ always _ wore, dangled above her ass with every step she took. Louis, even after all those years, was still cringing at the clacking of the Louboutins she never seemed to take off, even if her man wasn’t exactly appreciative of how they made her taller than he was. Her staple outfit consisted of a blazer and a pencil skirt, and you can already imagine how goddamned _ official  _ she always was, just like her partner.

To be fair… with her being so similar to his father, Louis didn’t really have to deal with her all that much, not seeing a lot of her throughout the few months that particular relationship lasted with the pair always being out, being masters of pretending that the boy never existed.

Then, there was Harper. Her arrival shocked the boy when the woman was briefly introduced to him, in a perfect moment too, right where she was moving into their apartment, so soon that Gina’s heavy perfume still lingered in the air. She was  _ young _ , way too young for his father to be dating, to the point where there was a smaller age gap between him and the woman than his father and his girlfriend.

She was  _ okay _ , that’s the official review of his father’s second serious partner after he was widowed. Louis didn’t really like how much time she spent at home. It wouldn’t even be all that bad if she spent it doing something else than micromanaging Monica, his babysitter at the time, but that seemed to be a little hobby of hers. Louis was a kid. He liked his cartoons and junk food, he liked being a fucking kid, right? With Harper, the very little free time he had left by the end of the day, was fully taken away from him. And  _ yeah _ , technically he was still allowed to watch TV or whatever, but what was the point of doing that when instead of relaxing with Cartoon Network on, he was forced to watch some educational garbage the woman found on some obscure kid’s channel? No point at all.

The last of the faces that popped into his head was Isabella, and  _ of course,  _ she was Italian. Unlike the whole gallery of blondes, eerily similar to his deceased wife, that the man dated more or less seriously ever since he was left alone with a kid, not all of them even introduced to his offspring, his last serious partner was a brunette. Her hair was long and thick, she wore it down because she liked that it slimmed her face.

She was older than his dad’s dates usually were, closer to her forties than thirties for once. He didn’t know how they met, he never did with his father’s ladies, but there had to be a reason when a year after the engagement with Harper was (thank God!) broken off, he brought into his kid’s life a woman so far from the usual standard.

Louis was thirteen when she moved in, already having kicked off his rebellion by then. So, of course, he wasn’t happy with a stranger in  _ his  _ home, throwing a nice streak of fits protesting the new addition to the caricature of his family, some of them ending up with him ‘running away’.

It was him being a piece of shit rather than having anything personal against the woman who he felt like deserved his bullshit because she was ‘just like his father’. She was not, and that’s why the teen had a whole catalogue of fond memories associated with her, instead of like one of Harper from where she took him to McDonald's that one time and absolutely none of Gina.

She wasn’t perfect, not at all. Her temperament matched his father’s, and while the two of them hadn’t spent enough time together to fight all that much, when they did… well, let’s just say that the dinnerware was exchanged far more frequently during the four years that relationship lasted.

Maybe that’s why he liked her as much as he did, because she didn’t stay silent like all the previous girlfriends did. She never failed to speak her mind and that’s something that Louis sort of felt like he needed, especially enjoying listening in on their screaming when he had a bone to pick with his dad.

She also, unlike the other ones, made an effort. And  _ yes _ , it was a bit cringy at first whenever she tried to make a conversation with him in the beginning, venturing into all the wrong topics of sports, cars or whatever the hell stereotypical boys liked, things that he didn’t really give a shit about. But she  _ tried,  _ and that’s already more than his dad had ever done.

Perhaps his sentiment was based mostly on the fact that she was the first person on whose shoulder he cried after a series of very confused boners he got whenever he caught sight of a cover of  _ Men’s Health. _ Much to his disadvantage, this position was always there, on the coffee table in between various business-oriented magazines his father subscribed to. No matter how many times he buried it under the stack of other positions, it always somehow ended up on top, taunting the boy mortified with the fact that he felt nothing of that sort when he first typed  _ boobs  _ in the search bar of his browser, crying himself to sleep once he found himself even more indifferent about the image of a vagina.

_ Yeah _ , Google was a rather lousy place to look for alluring pictures of any sort of genitals, but these very searches were what led to him coming out to a person that, at one point in his life, he believed was going to become his actual stepmother, a wedding date already set when the woman came to her senses and dodged the bullet that Aaron Tomlinson was.

Let’s just say that thirteen-year-old Louis wasn’t all that familiar with things like incognito mode that would conceal the adventures on porn sites he took in order to get to the bottom of this debacle that his sexuality was. Something divine had to be looking over him at the time when it was Isa who discovered his search history after being scared into checking it by whichever breakfast television program that ran a bit about the predators exploiting kids on the internet.

The fist tear fell on Lou’s cheek when he realised he was busted and expected to get in trouble, first for watching porn in the first place, second for the porn being very much  _ gay _ , already having his preferences around the time this whole thing happened. He bawled his eyes out, red in the face and hyperventilating, begging her not to tell his dad because he was already somewhat aware of his outlook on that whole gay thing from the comments he made about people on the TV or the street.

And she just laid the laptop on the bed he was crying on, sat on the edge of it and took him in her arms, rocking the small teen for like ten minutes he needed to calm down enough to be able to speak. It was a weird thing, especially considering that it wasn’t all that long into their relationship when he was caught being curious. She reassured him that there was nothing wrong with who he was, actually taught him to use incognito function in his browser, made sure he knew not to speak to strangers on the web and promised his father wasn't going to know until he’s ready to break the news to him.

It was Isabella who had with him  _ the talk  _ 2.0, one that she prepared herself for very diligently even if gay sex wasn’t something she was all that interested in before, adding to the things the kid was taught by his babysitter when he was maybe twelve. If the first one was awkward, the second one was even worse, longer that’s for sure. At least she spared him the embarrassment of going into miniscule detail of the mechanics of the entire intercourse, stressing the importance of being safe.

As difficult as it was to reveal himself in such a way in front of the woman he didn’t know all that much back then and to sit through a difficult  _ talk  _ for what felt like hours upon hours, all of that created a solid foundation on which their relationship was built over the years.

His father claimed that it was disrespectful towards his birth mother to even say something like that when, emotional after Isabella moved out, he screamed out that the man’s bullshit took away a mother from him. Maybe it was. He never meant to belittle his mother’s significance in his life, the bond something he couldn’t deny he felt, even if he didn’t remember her alive, but it was Isabella who gave him an idea what having a mother felt like.

It was her who stood up for him, she cooked for him, she was always there when he broke up with a boy or was broken up with. She made sure put him on prEP when she walked in on him having sex with his boyfriend, even if he was yet to venture any further than a blowjob. She was always so attentive to whatever bullshit he had going in his life… to the point where, by the end of that relationship, she even forced her partner into going out, the three of them, at least once every weekend.

Louis knew that there was nothing authentic in the interest his father apparently started having in his son’s life, but he suffered through the dinners, the baseball games, the exhibitions or music shows they’ve seen together if only for the sake of Isabella who, as a first person in his life, put an effort to be there for him. No… she  _ was _ there for him. She was there when he came out to his dad during an argument, just to spite him. It was she who insistently lingered under his door right after, until he let her come in to soothe him. Those were her hours she put into convincing her partner that his son was fine just the way he was.

And…  _ yeah _ , that time was rather wasted, Lou still more than certain that his father wasn’t exactly at peace with his homosexuality, but she tried, and that was something he was going to be forever grateful for. 

He cried when she told him she was going to call off the wedding, coming to him even before she broke the news to his father so he doesn’t end up being surprised by the revelation, but he didn’t even try to convince her to stay, not able, in right conscience, to ask her to follow through with the wedding because he loved having a mom for once.

For the longest time, he was blaming himself for breaking them up. There was no way that no strain was put on the relationship when she constantly stood up for him, right? No matter how many times he was reassured that his guilt was unjustified, even to this day when the two of them met at least twice every month to catch up, the feeling still lingered.

But she was happy now, with a man she met after the disaster of a relationship with Aaron Tomlinson, and Louis still had a very dear friend in her, so he really couldn’t see their story ending better for either of them.

He missed her, perhaps more than any of his other friends he left at home, especially knowing that he’s soon to move out so far away, and even if they promised to keep in touch virtually, it wasn’t going to be the same.

The regret of going into the whole thing in his head was quick to take over once he felt obstruction growing in his throat, a single tear rolling down his cheek at the fond memory of Isabella. He swept it away with the top of his hand quicker than Harry had a chance to notice and force him to lie that it was sand that fell into his eye or whatever.

Only when he snapped out of it, he realised how long he was gone, nearing the end of the road they were trotting on, his brain conscious enough to maintain control over the reins to the point where he successfully made it out alive from where his thoughts have wandered.

“Is the list  _ that  _ long?” Harry spoke once he caught sight of Louis being back with him, a mocking smirk on his face in reaction to that expedition his friend only came back from.

Louis’ head shook lightly. “There was Gina who was a complete bitch.” He held his thumb out as he started counting. “Harper, a bit lesser of a bitch.” Index finger straightened to add to the theatrics. “And Isabella. She was… sort of cool, I guess. She had quite a mouth on her.” He finished counting on such an understatement, deciding to keep the story of his would-have-been stepmother to himself. “And countless nameless blondes that walked out of our place in yesterday’s clothes.” A bitter chuckle met with a nod of Harry’s head. “At the end of the day, all there’s left of all of them are dents in the hardwood from their damned heels.”

Harry laughed, treating that remark as a joke even if it wasn’t, at least not completely. Louis brought back that particularly deep groove in the floor near the sofa, the place where Gina would dig her heel to keep herself from commenting whenever the pops started annoying her. Only her passive approach was responsible for that relationship lasting as long as it did, not without a collateral in the shape of the glorious, dark hardwood that stretched throughout the penthouse, now ruined with her dirty shoes.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry finally spoke, therefore ending the stretch of silence that, with exception of a few single-syllable answers he got from Louis after they got back from their last, the longest ride with Butterscotch and Raven, who was ecstatic about being taken out twice due to the odd number of available horses in the stables, lasted way longer than Harry was comfortable with it stretching to.

Louis… didn’t really know. His thoughts wandered somewhere around Isabella and his friends back home, his dad made a cameo here and there, breaking up the pleasurable streak, but he wasn’t even able to pinpoint where he was when he was interrupted by Harry, who also popped up once or twice. “Anne.” He lied… well, not exactly. The embarrassment from the morning still followed him even so far into the evening.

A raspy groan was not something he expected to get in response, but that’s what he had to make do with, because that’s exactly what Harry gave him. The book he held was closed with a thud appropriate to the outrageous number of pages contained in a hard cover, the whole thing discarded outside of the blanket they were laying on for however long it was since they finished the dinner they had after they came back from the last ride.

The man rolled onto his side, fingers following from the delicate skin on the crook of Lou’s elbow down till he reached his palm, letting their fingers braid together in the privacy provided by the field of tall corn to their left, an abandoned shed to the right. “Don’t think about it. She’s happy for me.” The groan was still somewhat present in his words.

The shorter boy only scoffed, a sigh following his mocking. “Why would she be happy that you’re fucking some spoiled, big-town idiot?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, and the second he let them fall off it, he already knew it was a mistake.  _ Fuck _ , it was only his fault for letting his scattered thoughts distract him from filtering whatever he wanted to say.

And  _ obviously _ , that staple frown made it onto Harry’s face in no time, Louis betting his life on it being there even before he opened his eyes and checked for himself, just to find it right where he imagined he would. “Nobody thinks about you like that, Louis. Not me, not my mom, you would know if she didn’t like you.”

The reassurance helped… just slightly though. “You’re avoiding the question I asked.” His answer fully brushed over his insecurities that Harry brought up in order to change a topic.

And the farmer knew it was dumb, but he didn’t want his friend to panic with his mother blowing stuff out of proportion, like she always did whenever he as little as looked at another person in a way she deemed  _ fond _ . “I don’t really  _ date  _ all that much.” How the tables have turned, leaving him being the one distraught instead of Louis, who hasn’t even twitched upon hearing the word Harry dreaded saying. “And I know that’s not technically what we are doing, but I haven’t filled her in on the details. So, seeing me alone for quite as long as I’ve been on my own… She’s just glad that I’m normal for once. That’s all.” 

The fact how quick Harry was to explain himself, almost made the younger boy laugh at him, though he pushed all of that away when his eyes fell on his friend’s expression, the clearest image of worry he ever had a chance of seeing.

Not sure what he was supposed to answer to that, he latched onto that rather minor detail that sparked his interest in the whole speech. “Why aren’t you dating?” 

It was just his curiosity, really. If his image of Harry was not a result of some sort of delusion or brain damage that he might have suffered in a fall off a horse during his first riding lesson, one that he simply didn't remember, leaving the whole month he lived through a figment of his compromised mind, there was no way the man would ever struggle getting a date. He was hot,  _ so fucking hot _ , and while some of that might be up to a preference, nobody would find viable arguments to deny his good looks. Add his brains, the kindness with which he approached everybody, that goofy sense of humour and you have a whole package. So what was the reason why nobody has claimed it yet? 

“How am I supposed to when everybody takes off as soon as they finish High School?” He laughed, still something rather contemplative making a cameo in his voice, just as if he didn’t really want to let go of the subject Louis was so very obviously touchy about. “In spite of your previous accusations, I’m not actually trying to sleep with kids, you know?”

“Yeah.” Louis’ sigh was breathy, because it made sense… sort of, not really. “It’s not like there’s nobody outside this town though.”

And…  _ duh.  _ Harry chuckled for a second, tracing circles on the inside of his friend’s wrist with his index finger “I guess.” His shoulders jumped in a shrug. “I have time for none of that in the summer.”

“So, you’re dating seasonally?” The boy let himself tease his companion, corners of his lips twitching in a smug smirk.

“Maybe, yeah.” Harry’s answer wasn’t all that true at all, though he didn’t exactly want to delve into the details of his love life and why he barely had any, in the first place. “I work for my mum’s friend’s construction business off-season. Mostly carpentry, no actual building.” There was something he could see Tomlinson wanted to say, but he decided not to let him interrupt. “It’s not as pleasurable as this is…” Something sounding dangerously close to a giggle brushed Lou’s skin. “But the regulated hours have their advantages.”

“So, why do you even come here anymore if you have a full-time job there?” Here was Louis again, questioning his friend’s life choices. Oh, what a surprise, yeah?

“I like this job.” The explanation was too basic to satisfy Lou’s curiosity, but it sort of made sense… well, no. It made all the sense. “Even if I’m not working around here, I still come to see Raven all the time, so being here is convenient.” Shifting his position, Harry rolled onto his belly, arms folded under his chin, facing his friend. “I think that with mom, we both appreciate the break we get from each other when I move out.”

“She doesn’t seem all that sick of you whenever she sees you.” Louis scoffed, Anne constantly cooing to her son how much she misses him all the time.

And yeah… Harry knew that, not really all that serious with that argument. “Saves me on gas.” Another rather lousy one to support his way of living.

“I’m sure it’s worth it with you getting paid like a half of what you would earn there.”

“Money’s not everything.” He groaned, perhaps a bit sick of always having to explain his motivation behind returning to the farm in the summer. The slightest tinge of irritation was not something he let Louis notice, knowing that their relation was advanced enough that there probably was something more than rude nosiness that led to this inquisitiveness.

“That’s what rich people say.”

“You would know.” They laughed in unison, Styles needing a second to gauge whether he hasn’t offended his companion gravely. “Maybe we’ll talk about your work experience now?” Mildly amused, he scratched an itch on his chin.

“I would gladly if there was one to speak of.” Perhaps he should be a bit more ashamed about this whole farm thing being his first experience in actual manual labour, but he couldn’t bring himself to, especially around Harry who was well aware of this fact. “I wouldn’t mind following your career path since it sort of seems that you’ve done literally everything.”

“Not quite everything, but close.” His hand wandered underneath Lou’s tee, occupying himself with tracing the lines his stretchmarks present on his hips.

Disapproval of this new pastime Harry found for himself was clear on the teen’s face, frown settling on his warmed by the sun face. There was an attempt to slap the hands away from the source of some insecurities he had, but he would have to be delusional to believe his friend, determined little shit, wouldn’t insist to stay right in the problem area.

“Stop it.” Styles drew through his clenched teeth, nothing actually angry in his words, just the stubbornness Anne mentioned in the morning.

“No, you stop it!” The smaller guy argued, all sorts of things audible in his voice; some embarrassment, a tinge of irritation and perhaps even something pleading. 

“Give me one good reason and I will stop immediately.”

The actual reason wasn’t something he was very eager to go out and announce, so Louis fully dismissed that as a potential answer. “You should know better than insist after hearing no, mister nice guy.”

“Fair.” Louis considered it a small victory when Harry’s fingers slipped out from under his tee, hand falling as far from the boy as it was physically possible. “My first job was at a grocery store that doesn’t exist anymore. I would go there after school for two or three hours, fill the shelves, tidy up and that sort of stuff. I was fourteen.”

Something in the way he immediately jumped back to the interrupted topic, told Lou there would be consequences he didn’t see coming when he pushed the man away. “That’s early to be working.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I was fired rather soon, and then I started coming here, taking care of the horses and just… doing essentially what you are doing here.”

“So I’m doing a kid’s job?” The teen scoffed, forgetting to inquire about the reason why Styles was fired from his first job.

“Yeah, more or less.”

Harry’s rant about all the places he worked at lasted a whole lot more than Louis thought it would, not exactly because there was so many different jobs he had, that too, but most of the time he was digressing, going on these whole journeys about friends he made there or the reasons why he had to start working so early in the first place.

Well… no. He stressed repeatedly that he never  _ had to  _ work before he graduated High School, Anne never as little as giving him an idea that he was supposed to do something other than focusing on his school, but it was Harry, and Harry would rather jump off a cliff than see his mother struggle to put food on the table.

So, as soon as his grandmother’s health started deteriorating, and his own mum had to cut her hours in the library she worked at, he was quick to pick up whatever odd job his neighbours were willing to give him. Through mowing lawns, painting fences or tutoring neighbourhood kids in math (purposefully staying out of babysitting after that one time he was sucker-punched by his sister for stealing her source of income when their mother failed to save enough for their pocket money), he soon had a rather extensive web of clients that hired him whenever they needed to have leaves cleaned out from their gutters or a shed rearranged, and he was happy to take it all if it meant he would be helpful.

After that particular story, or rather a series of spin-offs from the actual, main narrative, Louis sort of started understanding why Harry was treated by people like some sort of hometown hero, the golden boy rushing to help them with whatever. Apparently the residents, with their unreliable due to old age memories, long since forgotten that he was doing this in exchange for money.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to touch you.” Here it was, barely five hours after being pushed away in a rather rude way with little to no justification, Harry brought up the very situation when his friend commented his passiveness with a confused look.

Louis groaned, but still left Styles’ lap from where he was straddling it. The sun was long gone from the sky, both Frank and Ada fast asleep as the two of them still hung out in Lou’s bedroom, watching a movie only one of them actually paid attention to.

No matter how many times the boy managed to swipe his hand over Harry’s crotch, oh what a clumsy rascal he was, his friend remained just as indifferent as he was ever since he was prohibited from that idiotic activity he picked up when they were relaxing outside.

Harry knew it was petty of him to hold a grudge for such a thing, and he wasn’t  _ really  _ offended, but he toyed with the idea that he was, in fact, mad at Tomlinson for pushing him away. So, with that in mind, he remained unphased, accepting every increasingly bolder touch with utmost indifference, letting himself be kissed when his companion got fed up and straddled his legs, but not kissing back, no matter how much strain his restraint had to endure.

“That’s called blackmail, Harry, and it’s super toxic.” That sassy, argumentative part of the boy made a cameo as he fell back onto the blanket they were initially laying on. “I thought you were better than that.”

And yeah, of course Louis rolled those eyes of his that might as well be there just for that purpose.

The shrug of the farmer’s shoulders, once again sold the message how absolutely over it he was, laying on his stomach next to his friend. As much as he wished he could, there was no way he was able to stop the shiver that shook his body once Lou’s cold fingers touched the small of his back under the top he was wearing. At least he held the hiss back.

Slowly but surely becoming more at peace with the silence that hung in the air as soon as Louis stopped talking, not taking into account the movie they were playing from the laptop, they just laid there, if only for the sake of hanging out together despite Harry  _ technically  _ being mad, even though he was not.

The movie finally came to an end, leaving them rather surprised with the fact that it was already two in the morning when the credits rolled onto the screen. Quickly after that, Harry said a quick goodbye, not even leaving Louis with a half-assed peck to his lips which…  _ rude _ , and he was gone, leaving the computer and the blankets on the floor for their next séance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to be doing this and feel dumb for changing things up right now, but I'm going to go with one chapter every Wednesday from now on until the dry spell ends, if it ever does. I'm struggling to get motivated and I think this is the bettetr solution between that and missing weeks of uploads when I run out of chapters. Hope you'll understand and stay with this story despite all of this, sorry for doing this, it does not come easy to me to let people down like that. Thank you for being patient with my annoying ass.  
>  Happy New Year to all of y'all, see you next Wednesday.


	15. Chapter 15

“Just think about it, will you?” Louis threw his hands in the air, not even realising he was gesticulating until he almost knocked himself out with a flying hand. “Promise me you’ll consider it.”

Using his wrist to take a swing with the hammer, Harry hit the nail on the head, fastening the plank he _might have_ sent to the floor by pressing his hand to it a tad too hard amid a rather fervent make-out session that got out of hand for a second or two, leaving surprisingly minor consequences for the man to deal with.

He didn’t know what was the reason behind Louis being so insistent about being allowed to mount Raven, whom they might have startled a bit with the loud noise the falling piece of wood sent through the stables, but he was sure that as much as he loved his stallion, he knew him well enough not to lay his full confidence in his ability to behave, and he was not going to risk it with how fragile Louis seemed in his eyes.

“I have considered it, and it’s still no.” With two more strikes, he secured the other side of the plank, therefore patching the hole so seamlessly, nobody would have a clue an accident of that sort even occurred. “I’m not saying that you will never get to ride him, but as much progress as you’ve made from the first time you mounted Grease, I still don’t think you fully understand how particular of an animal my boy is.”

Louis could only sigh, seeing that he had to admit defeat on that one, not forgetting to push as much irritation out of his lungs as it was physically possible. “Is Ada home yet?” He inquired, still holding onto a small handful of nails Harry trusted him with, carrying them as they headed towards the exit. “I’m getting hungry.” The complaint was partially overpowered by the sound of nails falling into the toolbox the boy discarded them in.

“She’s not.” His head shook in denial. “Didn’t she tell you she’ll be gone till Thursday?”

“No.” Well… he wouldn’t bet his life on it, he sometimes forgot things with how tired he recently tended to be, but he didn’t think so. He’d remember if he had to partake in preparing dinner for a few days, something he wasn’t exactly ecstatic about.

“Mom will have us for dinner.”

“Uh oh.” Tomlinson’s face contorted in a grimace at the thought of seeing Anne for the first time since he, so very obviously, exposed the ‘secret’ they had with Harry. It’s not that he hated her or something, of course not, his stupidity was not something he was going to blame the woman for, but there was still this trace of awkwardness that lingered in him, bound to grow to monstrous sizes once he actually _sees_ her.

“No.” Suddenly, Styles clapped his hands, effectively snapping his friend out of wherever he noticed his thoughts have wandered. “I’m having none of this. Absolutely not.” Getting the screen door out of their way in no time, just like any thief would with ease considering that there was nobody in the house and it was still so foolishly opened at all times as if the owners weren’t aware of existence of serial killers and whatnot, the two of them rushed upstairs to get themselves decent before heading to meet Anne.

“She probably hates me for touching her sweet, angel boy.” It was supposed to be a murmur, but it was rather challenging to mumble something under your nose so it’s audible over the pounding of water falling from the showerhead, sliding over Harry’s back as the other guy stood deprived of the privilege.

See, as much as they thought sharing that shower was a very good idea, especially with Ada gone and Frank being… wherever he tended to go during the day, using water conservation and cutting the time they needed to get ready in half as an excuse to get naked together, it hasn’t worked out all that well.

There’s only so much surface the narrow showerhead was able to cover, so they just ended up shuffling uncomfortably and taking turns under it, though Louis wasn’t going to claim that he didn’t enjoy the wet kisses they’ve exchanged and the lathering process that with how diligent Harry proved to be after Tomlinson had to warn him about the consequences he would suffer if he actually used the bar soap on him, was far superior over the one he would half-ass in normal circumstances.

Borderline claustrophobic after solid fifteen minutes of being crammed in the bathtub doubling as a shower, somewhat nauseous from the mixed scent of their respectable choices of cosmetic products, and with the temperature of their bodies back to normal from where it spiked for a reason they were not going to disclose (thank God for cold showers), they stepped out of the tub, covering most of the ugly tiles with water from their bare bodies they decided to let air dry. 

Harry stood to the side, letting his friend take the advantage of the mirror that was not big enough for the two of them, and tortured his poor hair with the faded towel, rubbing the moisture out of the dark brunette locks to the point where it would be understandable if all of it fell out in revenge for that treatment. And of course, just like everything in his case, none of that happened, his hair bouncy, shiny and just, against all odds- perfect.

“Did she snap at you when I was gone?” The brunette scoffed, hanging his wet towel over the railing for the shower curtain. “I know that she wouldn’t, but I cannot see any other reason why would you so stubbornly claim that she hates you, when she clearly does not.”

Obviously, that did not happen either, and Louis knew there was no point in distracting himself from improvising something presentable from the damp hair laying flat on his head to say that Anne has never been anything less than an angel. Nothing really came out of the styling endeavour that was doomed from the start, so he decided to quickly brush his teeth for no other reason than the fact that he needed another minute or two for the water on his body to completely evaporate.

“Mothers aren’t usually my biggest fans.” He only spoke after both of them threw something on and ran down the stairs as they were already late. Now, sat in the truck, Louis observed his friend as he slipped a pair of Clubmasters onto his face. “I know, a shocker.”

His words weren’t completely true, and even if they were, it wasn’t only relationship experience he drew from. Only two of the relationships he had reached the point of seriousness where it was appropriate for him to meet his partner’s mother, one of those cases was around three months in where it really was just his boyfriend and him thinking they were so incredibly mature in doing that.

No matter if those were mothers of his boyfriends or just parents of friends whose houses he frequented, Louis had no doubt that he wasn’t welcome more times than he was, even if nobody really told him that to his face.

“I’m great with mothers.” Styles boasted, because of course, he was good with moms. Upon turning the key in the ignition, the engine roared in pain and fully threw all the chances to have an actual conversation out of the window. So, they decided to stay silent, Louis’ hand, almost on an instinct, finding its way to Harry’s thigh, resting there mostly for the sake of maintaining some kind of physical contact, the touch leaning more towards that chaste territory than the carnal one.

“God, why does it always smell so good in here?” The boy didn’t even sound completely human when he groaned, taking another whiff of the air that amongst other things, hit him with a delicious mixture of vanilla and browned butter. “They won’t let me on the plane when the time comes for me to leave, that’s how fat I will be.” He laughed, yearningly reaching for Harry’s hand as soon as it left the small of his back, his brain demanding for it to be put back even if they really couldn’t let themselves loose, already two steps from the kitchen where Anne was.

“Smells just like home, doesn’t it?” Harry smiled at his mother fondly, approaching just to give her a quick hug, appropriate for that rather short time they were apart.

“Not really, no.” Surprisingly confident in the kingdom of the very woman he previously claimed, hated him (well, he knew he was dramatic and she did not), he made a beeline for the fridge and poured himself water into the glass he snagged from the dish dryer. “Home smells like printer ink and resentment, but that might be just me.” If he was with his usual friend group, he would get far more than those polite chuckles that he got only because of… he didn’t know what, pity maybe.

Squatting in front of the very source of that delicious smell that was even more pungent in the kitchen, where Louis really just wanted to close the windows to preserve it, or at the very least, ask for some of it in a tight jar to take home for later, Harry peeped through the dark glass into the oven. “Cookies, yes!” The man rubbed his hands in anticipation, springing up to join Louis on one of the chairs. “You should make some for the church sale this Sunday.”

Tomlinson frowned for a quick second, observing how the hostess tossed a salad with utensils dedicated specifically for that purpose. In his head, right on the spot, he had quite a number of better alternatives for the cookies than a church sale, the list opened with giving them to him, finishing on throwing them into the garbage.

Fine, maybe he was a bit harsh since, as much as he saw already, these fundraisers were usually going to a good cause, supporting the less fortunate, but still… he was not the biggest fan of this whole church institution, sue him!

“Are you all settled in, sir?” Unlike himself, the teen started a conversation at the table, offering a warm smile to Harry’s granddad from above his plate of something that resembled spaghetti Bolognese, but he couldn’t, in right mind name it that, not with the alterations Anne made to the traditional recipe. Just for the record, he wasn’t saying that it was not tasty, it was, as always, but it wasn’t Bolognese.

The head adorned with borderline white curls, rose from above the plate of pasta Albert was so focused on before. “Oh, of course, Annie is making the move easy on me.” He chuckled, eyes swaying to direct a loving smile at his daughter. “I still have no clue where anything is, and if I understood correctly, I have you two to thank for that.”

Well… he wasn’t wrong, not at all. Maybe they weren’t all that focused while unpacking. “Yeah, we might have treated the instructions rather loosely, sorry about that.” Harry stepped in to draw attention away from the blush that bloomed on his friend’s cheeks in a reaction to the memory of the two of them making out in Albert’s new bedroom.

“Saw Bobby’s girl in town yesterday.” Albert finished the previous conversation with a mention of ‘Bobby’s girl’, whoever that was. “What a nice girl she grew into. Pretty too.” A sip of beer was used as punctuation. “I was telling her about you, still a bachelor.” The elder’s head shook in disapproval of his grandson’s lifestyle.

Louis could’ve sworn there was a grimace on Harry’s face, disappearing as soon as they caught each other’s gazes over the table. “I already told you that’s not happening, pa.” The sigh that concluded his words could only be described as exhausted, his eyes immediately back to the plate where he was already working on his second portion.

“A shame. What a bunch of pretty babies you two would make.” Albert didn’t back down, insistently telling a tale of the girl he was, so very obviously, trying to match up his grandson with. “You were lucky enough to get your looks from your mother, not from that fool of a father of yours.”

It was almost funny how sheepish Styles got all of the sudden, never before seen quite like this by Louis, who was rather amused by the display.

With another sigh, Harry chased a bite with two sips of sweet tea. “I sure was.”

“At your age, I already had your uncle starting school.”

From borderline irritated with his grandfather’s antics, Harry turned discouraged, raking his fork through the pasta on his plate.

“Missing the babysitting now that your grandkids are all grown up?” Louis chimed in, perhaps pitying his friend just a bit, reciprocating for when it was Styles who saved him from embarrassing himself with his flushed face. Even if he probably now wished he didn’t do that, finding himself under his granddad’s heavy fire, he couldn’t exactly take that back. “You sure seem eager to get back to it, don't you, sir?” His chuckle mixed with the windchimes hanging in Anne’s backyard.

“Would be nice to live to see at least one of my great grandchildren, the other’s a career woman, you know?” The wink Albert sent Lou’s way probably meant something, but he didn’t exactly catch what. “This one on the other hand, stays deaf to his poor old man’s pleading.” The white hair shook again, the man finishing his beer in a single swig.

“Oh, there’s plenty of time for that, you’re in your prime!” What a kiss ass. _Yeah_ , he knew. “You can’t possibly think your daughter is old enough to be a grandmother, there’s no way.” Eh, he might as well get some bonus points in the eyes of both if he was already at it, right?

“She surely didn’t ask if her mother was old enough when she broke the news to us.” There was nothing actually resentful in his voice, and everybody knew that, Anne’s ringing laughter breaking the silence that overtook the table for a few seconds. “What about you, Louis? When is your daddy going to have a grandchild to spoil?”

And he… almost fell off the chair he was sitting on. All of his might was put in the effort not to laugh because really, the sole vision of his father being an actual, loving grandpa, like all those ones on the TV, somehow seemed even less realistic than Louis knocking up whichever of his future sexual partners.

There was something Harry wanted to say, perhaps save Tomlinson once again, continuing the streak of exchanging favours at the table, but Louis crossed their legs under the furniture, and Styles remained asilent, correctly reading his pal’s intention behind that action.

“I’m sure my father will be much happier if I finish school first, and only then start thinking about having kids.” With a flippant shrug of his shoulders, he maneuvered his way out of the topic of his offspring that was never to exist in the first place, getting back to his plate as he was now quite a bit behind everybody else, having wasted so much time chatting.

They ended up having quite a bit of a slip-up when it came to their schedule after spending at Anne’s far more time than they initially intended to. How could they not? With the hostess still bringing out more and more things for them to indulge in, and the clarity Albert exuded right to the very end of that hangout session, there was no way they would leave right after dinner.

Even with that delay, they still lingered in the truck after they arrived, parked in a blank spot covered by the darkness, catching up on the kisses they have missed by being in company of people other than each other.

“I think we should go and do our chores before Frank breaks out an axe.” Louis hummed into Harry’s mouth, letting his hand fall back onto his friend’s thigh from where it was already under his tee. “I’m pretty sure it’s only Ada that is keeping him from going full-on Texas Chainsaw Massacre on us, so I’m really quite worried now that she’s gone.”

Harry scoffed, clearly showing his belief in Frank being any sort of threat to him, not even pretending like there was a slight chance he would lose in a fight with his boss. “He’s got nothing on us.” He winked at his friend. Rattling of the Tupperware box with cookies was accompanying Lou’s clumsy attempt at gracefully sliding out of the passenger seat, shoving the door closed with his shoulder.

“Maybe we should lock him in the basement until she’s back. You know… just to be safe.” Lou proposed a solution to not feeling completely comfortable around Frank, for once being the one opening the screen door as they entered the farmhouse, chuckling in unison.

With one last chore still to be done before they could head upstairs, they opted for the kitchen instead, Louis sitting at the table, not wasting a second before cracking into the box of cookies Anne pretty much forced them to take, not that Louis opposed all that much besides that one time he felt like he should for the sake of politeness.

“You want one?” Just as well-mannered, he offered his friend a cookie, remembering that they were technically communal. As soon as Harry’s head shook in decline, the man taking the chair next to his friend with a tall glass of buttermilk he settled on instead, Tomlinson started breaking off chunks of the exquisite product of Anne’s labour.

They just sort of observed each other, the teen incredibly captivated by the way Harry’s throat contorted with every gulp he took from his glass, finishing the whole of it in three parts. That serenity didn’t last long at all, Tomlinson properly covered in crumbs when Frank walked into the kitchen, rushing to the fridge like death from malnutrition was an actual threat that he faced. 

As if he was electrocuted, Styles leaned away from his friend as soon as they were joined by the host, propping his head on the left elbow, apparently very interested in the crossword Ada left unfinished in her usual spot. Wielding a pen in his hand, he immediately started filling the empty cubicles.

The silence that swallowed the kitchen whole was one of those awkward ones, and that could be somewhat blamed on Harry. Usually, Louis would force small talk with Frank, just to avoid exactly what they were now surrounded by. Now, with Harry and his boss stuck in that perpetual silence, he did not dare to speak, left to nibble on his cookies, feeling impotent against the tension hanging in the air that, all of a sudden, has become unbearable to tolerate.

Whether it was his inability to take a hint, something that he exuded more than once or twice, or just being a piece of shit that he was, Frank invited himself to take one of the two vacant chairs, throwing a sloppy sandwich straight onto the table, a beer bottle next to it.

Louis _tried_ to stay calm and do his thing, but he couldn’t say it was easy to ignore the pressure that got rid of any trace of fresh air in the kitchen, making it hard not to suffocate in it. What didn’t make it any easier, was Harry, his entire body stiffening the moment Frank joined them.

So, he was still _mad_ , there was no denying that. It was weird because Louis would never accuse him of being able to hold a grudge for quite this long, and if him still not talking to his boss was surprising enough, it’s been quite some time since the infamous fight, he couldn’t even fathom what Frank must’ve done to make Harry still clench his fists in anger two weeks after.

He regretted taking the detour on their way to lead the horses out, he really did. Let’s just say that he was the last person suitable for breaking up a fight, especially between two men who collectively must’ve weighed at least three times his weight, if not more than that. In a desperate attempt to do _something_ , he pressed his leg flush with Harry's, praying that he finds some solace in the touch, hoping to ground him somehow.

“Are these Anne’s cookies?” When Frank spoke, it felt… bizarre, just as if he was breaking a rule they collectively agreed upon, even if nothing like that happened.

And of course, Tomlinson wasn’t keen on sharing, especially with _him._ Weighing his options quickly, he decided that one of the seven sweet treats he had left wasn’t an unjust sacrifice if only he wasn’t going to end up in the middle of a fistfight caused by suppressed anger and testosterone.

He was just about to pick up the box and reach it across the table, but that’s when Harry’s hand prevented that from happening. “They are Louis’ cookies.” His voice was not nearly as hostile as Lou expected it to be. _Sure_ , it was deep as ever, something intimidating in the rasp of it, but it was not plainly _angry_ , not that.

Harry got a side-eye from the farmer who, with mustard embellishing his moustache, bit into his sandwich once more, apparently deciding not to add fuel to the fire that was rather evidently burning inside the brunette.

Nobody would be surprised to hear that Louis did not want to see how the situation escalates _if_ it does, so he stood up from the chair he just sat in, abandoning the remaining cookies, not all that concerned whether they were to be there when he comes back. Quickly snatching Harry’s empty glass from the table, he gave it a wash and soon after, he was already waiting at the door for his friend to join him. “Am I supposed to do everything alone now?” The attempt at sounding humorous was an unsuccessful one, thankfully nobody was paying enough attention to notice that it was his intention.

With that, Harry got up, pushing his chair under the table before he followed the boy who already made it outside, relishing in the air he finally could fill his lungs with, toxic atmosphere left behind the door that Styles slammed, it could be only assumed that intentionally.

“Maybe it’s you who I should lock in the basement after all.” Now, he managed to sound much lighter with Frank out of reach. Crossing their way to the stables, there was still something dark lingering over Harry, but he expected it to blow over soon, hoping the horses had similarly therapeutic effect on the brunette as they had on him. “I don’t know if that matters to you all that much, but I would not enjoy breaking up a fight.” His chuckle did a poor job of defusing whatever it was that stuck to his friend. “Though I appreciate you protecting my cookies, that’s very chivalrous of you.”

Flicking a switch to the few bulbs that were hanging from the ceiling, Louis flooded the stables with light, sparking curiosity of the inhibitors that were used to the routine enough to know what was happening.

They quickly cut to the chase, the younger boy all but appreciative of his friend’s still agitated state. Paradoxically enough, with all his fumbling and sudden movements, almost robotic in a sense, Harry remained eerily quiet, something that rarely happened in usual circumstances.

It was the second batch of horses they were now leading to the paddock, Icarus and Butterscotch trotting side by side with their caretakers on their backs, when the man finally proved he wasn’t a victim of spontaneous muteness. “I don’t believe in violence.” He declared, blankly staring ahead of himself. “Let’s say I would give in and bash his skull in, how would it make anything better?”

Even as hypothetical as it was, the image alone sent a shiver down Lou’s spine. “Would probably feel good to do that.” If he was joking, it did not come across that he did, but he wasn’t even sure whether that was the intention in the first place.

“On the spot… probably, yeah.” Harry sighed, releasing what felt like a half of that pressure out of his lungs. “It’s not like I wouldn’t be pissed anymore though.”

“Yeah.” The boy hopped off Butterscotch’s back as they got to their destination, Harry following his suit. “I’m not much for physical altercations either.” Well… _duh._ “I’ll just let it all build up and boil inside of me before it gets all too much and it bursts. You might not know that about me, but dramatic tantrums are sort of my thing. Tears, throwing stuff and all the fireworks.”

He got a small chuckle in response to that, _a chuckle!_ Even if small and not necessarily all that sincere, it felt tremendous at the moment, the two of them heading back to the stables to take Raven out. “I can see that being the case.” Another low laugh emerged from the brunette. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“I’m not a baby.” Louis stubbornly claimed, feeling like a child all too familiar around Harry even if considering the actual character of their relation, he should _never_ feel like that.

“I never said you were.” Harry’s broad shoulders shrugged quickly.

Neither of them spoke for the few minutes it took them to reach Raven, who was ecstatic to see both of them. _Well_ , not really. Of course, it was only Harry he cared about, but he didn’t seem bothered by Louis, so that was enough for the boy.

Soon after, Louis was already on his way to the farmhouse, sans Styles who informed him that his stallion seemed like he needed some _actual_ activity. It was an obvious lie, and it wasn’t even that bad, just a small, white one probably to keep him calm. Still, he wished that he was just told the truth, that Harry needed a second alone to blow some steam off instead of making up stories that weren’t completely false either, it was not news to Louis that Raven needed more exercise than the others.

Turned out it wasn’t only him who felt intimidated by Harry’s brief, internal meltdown, the untouched box of cookies, placed right where Louis left them, only showed that Frank must’ve felt at least a bit threatened by his employee.

Scoffing at that truly pathetic display that almost made his eyes roll to the ceiling, Louis snatched his possession from the table and got up the stairs without further ado, politely avoiding that one creaky step in case the owner already slept.

Feeling like the caricature of a shower he had before dinner was not enough, he decided to have another one, especially now that he didn’t really have anything better to do anyways. It felt liberating to have all the space to himself, but he didn’t claim that the shared one did not have its advantages. Needing refreshing more than actual deep-scrubbing, he just stood under the stream for a while, rubbing his eyes with balls of his fists till his sight became clouded and he had to leave, not looking forward to falling and the humiliation of having Frank find him naked on the floor.

Too exhausted to even care about following all the steps of his nightly skincare routine, the dollop of moisturiser he slathered his face in already far too much effort, he sloshed some mouthwash to get him through the night and soon, left the bathroom, the door wide opened even if he was sure he was bound to get shit for it, Harry _hated_ that aspect of sharing the bathroom… oops?

There wasn’t even all that much reason for him to him be so exhausted, but there he was, face-planting into the crumpled bedding the second his shins hit the bedframe. Yeah, he sort of made it more difficult for himself, needing solid two minutes of squirming accompanied by infuriated grumbles of his production before he covered his body with the duvet, pulling it all the way up to his chin even if the temperature was far from demanding that sort of diligence.

As much as he wanted to blame the dogs, their yapping reaching the annoyed boy in his bedroom, he knew that was not the reason why he couldn’t sleep. Well… he managed to snooze quite a few times, but re-emerged just as quickly, an endless cycle that was draining him more than if he was just fully awake.

A quiet creak outside his door concluded whichever brief nap he caught as he was, more or less consciously, waiting for Harry to get back. There he was, the door of his bedroom creaking characteristically when he closed it, another, similar yet different sound followed and Louis didn’t really need to hear the sigh to know that his friend was already in their bathroom.

Willing his eyes to stay open, he waited till the brunette peeks into his room to close the door, scared that he was going to miss it if he even blinks. But he has not, Harry emerging from the bathroom to catch the knob of the door. One look was all Louis got, though he couldn’t be certain whether it was even possible to see that he was still awake.

“Come here.” He croaked, just to make sure Harry knew he wasn’t sleeping, lifting the corner of his duvet invitingly.

There was that soft chuckle of Harry’s, more like a rapid exhale but it still very obviously screamed amusement. If he never before had problems with saying ‘no’, he couldn’t really deny _that_ invitation, could he?

That’s why he chose to approach, sitting on the very edge of the bed with his silhouette slumped forwards. It was clear that this was not what the teen had in mind though, eager fingers reaching for Harry to pull him in.

“I need a shower.” Styles protested, catching the hand that was trying to force him under the covers.

Fatigue did not keep Louis from getting on his knees, both of his palms set on either of his friend’s tense shoulders. There was no doubt that what Harry just returned from, was far more intense than the strolls they usually took together, his skin slicked with sweat as he wound down, chest fluttering still somewhat frantically.

Not phased at all, the teen reached for the hem of his companion’s tee and pulled it off, for once not encountering an obstacle in the shape of unhelpful Harry in his endeavour. There was no actual knowledge to what he was doing, but he gave his friend’s muscles a gentle squeeze, the satisfied hum he got in exchange encouraging him to be bolder, put more force into it.

“I’m _really_ disgusting.” Styles insisted once he felt a certain pair of lips pressing to his skin where his neck met his shoulder. When his words did not dishearten the boy behind him, he just chuckled, still trying to lean away from Louis. “You got all cleaned up, and for what?” Putting the stop to the massage he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy, Harry stood up, completely disregarding the eager boy practically hanging off his neck before he gave up.

There was a pout on the teen’s face, looking ridiculous in combination with the frown settled in his eyebrows. He didn’t return to his pillow, just sat criss-cross on the mattress and looked with something bordering on outrage in his expression.

Harry knew what would happen if he let himself linger, and he _really_ needed that shower, so that’s why he took upon himself putting a stop to it, even if he knew his sacrifice wouldn’t be appreciated.

All that was left for him to do was to leave, and that’s precisely what he did, attempting to disarm that ticking bomb Louis was with a smile, not much success to his mission.

And _of fucking course,_ the second he heard the shower curtain rattle, the indication that Harry was in the shower already, Louis scrambled off his bed and headed straight for Harry’s bedroom, trashing all the effort the man put into making his bed as he buried himself under his thin sheet.

Louis was almost disappointed in the lack of any comment his presence received, Harry welcoming the sight as if it was something he expected to see, and, to be fair, it wasn’t unjustified. “Scoot over.” He whispered as if there was need for them to be quiet. He barely had to wait to be granted entrance into the cosy comfort of his own bed.

There was a question Louis wanted to know the answer to ever since Harry’s argument with Frank, but he never had the guts to inquire, or maybe he was scared to hear one of the two possible options. Somehow, cuddled up in the dark, aware that the lack of space on the single mattress was a secondary reason why they were so close, he felt like he wouldn’t get a chance better than that one, especially now that he witnessed the situation not being any better than it was two weeks ago.

He was still scared to ask, risking Harry falling asleep before he builds the necessary courage. His hand was thrown over his friend’s midsection, fingers absentmindedly stroking the skin stretching over Styles’ stomach, against all logic, being the bigger spoon that night.

“Are you going to leave now?” This time, he was whispering too, though for him it was more delusion that somehow it made any of it less real than it was, or maybe he just hoped Harry wouldn’t hear him and he could give himself credit for asking without actually getting an answer.

But he did hear him, the sudden stiffness of his body not something Lou could explain otherwise. “What?” His murmur barely audible with his lips pressed to the duvet.

If he already regretted asking once he realised Harry wasn’t asleep, the feeling multiplied when he was asked to elaborate. Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuuuck._ The sole idea of exposing his concern of Harry’s departure felt embarrassing as all hell.

There was really nothing else for him to do than answer. “Now that you and Frank are like _that_ … why do you even stay?”

A sigh broke through the constant yapping of the dogs. “Should I leave? Is that you trying to get rid of me?”

And Louis scoffed at how big of a miss that accusation was. “Yeah.” As he nodded, his nose tickled the nape of Harry’s neck. “I don’t like it that I’m the only one who doesn’t know what happened.” Taking advantage of this honesty hour, he admitted to another thing that tormented him for a while now.

“You’re being nosy.” Harry shook his head in disapproval that met with no reaction other than a caricature of a shrug and the tightening of the embrace. As if it was some sort of silent approval, Harry sighed. “Ask me when it’s not two in the morning and we’ll see if I’m more chatty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is kinda short... at least for my standards I guess. The next one is twice this one, so please bear with me. I'm struggling.  
> Keep tight, see you next week. TPWK


	16. Chapter 16

It must have been a tenth insult Louis threw at his own reflection in the mirror, he spent solid twenty minutes in front of. Making sure that this option was no good, he pulled the tee shirt off himself and threw it on a pile of failed propositions that took a half of his bed. Maybe if he didn’t bring so many clothes, he wouldn’t have this problem now, but he liked his options, yeah? Who cares that not one has worked yet.

The jeans were…  _ adequate _ , the least of his problems. With maybe three things left to try on before he’s forced to go back to the pile of rejects to re-evaluate, he reached for the striped tee that laid on the shelf of the opened wardrobe.

_ Nope _ , definitely not. He looked… fat, and he split the blame for that between Anne and Ada who were responsible for him gaining at least five pounds since he arrived. The next one was plain and black, which seemed like a best bet, they always say that black is slimming, yeah?

Maybe it was, but then, with his jeans already being black, he looked like he was headed to a funeral. Apart from that, he could already imagine how sweaty he would get immediately with all the beams absorbed by his outfit.

Having deemed the last piece inappropriate for the occasion without even trying it on, his worst nightmare became true, and he really had to go back to rummage through the pile on his bed.

It was ridiculous, really. There was no logical explanation that would justify him spending so much time picking his outfit, especially now that he spent a third of the hour trying on different options and wasn’t any closer than he was when he started.  _ Fuck. _

He stayed clear of the abso-fucking-lutely not pile, and moved to the left of his mattress, in the direction where the degree of objection gradually decreased. At the very end of the spectrum, he found one button-down he packed for reason he wasn’t able to recall, and a basic, light grey tee. Unwilling to look like he tried too hard, even if that’s precisely what he did, he settled for the second piece and quickly threw it on, knowing that he wasted enough time in front of the mirror, especially now that he settled on one of the first options he tried on.

Harry was still in the shower, and that was probably the only reason why Lou wasn’t mocked just yet, though he doubted he would be nearly as dramatic about his look if his friend was there to witness him stressing about something so… ridiculous, really.

There was a reason why he wanted to look…  _ decent _ , but not big enough to justify his behaviour. It was Saturday, the sun high on the sky as the two of them were getting ready to leave. Leave where? Well… exactly. Turned out that Albert’s birthday was on Thursday, and it was a bigger thing than Louis would ever predict it to be.

Apparently, it was casual, and rather short notice, especially to Louis whom Harry failed to notify that he was, in fact, invited as well. By the birthday boy himself, so he really could not skip, could he? Exactly, that’s what this whole thing was about.

He didn’t act like it was a casual thing because he was aware that there were going to be  _ people  _ there. People not like Harry, Anne, Albert and him, the squad they were recently dining in, but people like Harry’s family and friends of said family so…  _ strangers. _

Louis didn’t like strangers, that was not news to anybody that knew him, even Harry aware of the fact, hence why he slacked with inviting him to the party in the first place. What made it even worse though was the fact that these strangers happened to be Harry’s family and maybe he cared just a bit not to make a fool out of himself in front of them.

Struggling to keep that particular worry in the back of his head, he padded to the bathroom, moving from one mirror to another. There wasn’t much he could do with his hair at the moment to the point where he didn’t even bother trying. Brushing his hair back with his fingers coated with a thin layer of hair wax was all he could do.

Washing the last of the product off his hands, he had nothing else to do, and just left the bathroom, informing his friend that he’s going to be downstairs when Harry is ready for them to go.

“Should I be worried that your hands are shaking?” Harry inquired when he handed Louis the gift the teen insisted on getting Albert even though he was countless times reassured that he didn’t have to. His resources were rather limited with the lack of time and unwillingness to trouble Harry with driving him somewhere farther than twenty minutes away.

It was just a bottle of Scotch Harry claimed was his grandfather’s favourite, but it made him feel far less awkward than if he arrived empty-handed. “Perks of serious drug addiction.” The boy scoffed, taking a deep breath to release some pressure from his body.

“Less ridiculous reason than actually being nervous right now.” Styles slammed the door of his truck and there they were in front of Anne’s house, murmur of the party already reaching their ears from the backyard. “Me being polite is not an exception. We're a great bunch, I promise.”

“Great, yeah. So everybody is going to be fake.” A small sigh fell off his lips as he took the first step towards the entrance, sourcing some comfort from the fact that Harry’s hand was still resting on the small of his back, not a whole lot of it though.

“When have I ever been fake?” An outraged note was forced into the question.

“When have you not?” His mocking cut the conversation prematurely, or perhaps it was the fact that, rather desperate to get out of it due to the lack of actual example, he already opened the door, Harry’s hand retracted from its previous spot only to hang by his side.

It was quieter in the house than Louis would expect it to be at a party. Well… it either was a small party like Harry promised or a lame one, and he didn’t know why, but he wouldn’t be disappointed by either.

Assuming that they should head towards the sound, they did just that, their steps synchronised when they finally reached the backyard. And then… it was not quiet anymore.

From the reaction their arrival gained, one might think that it was Harry whose birthday it was. That was not the case, of course, but it still didn’t stand in the way of at least five thousand people rushing to greet him, didn’t matter that most of them were seemingly busy before the man was noticed.

Overwhelmed and perhaps a bit annoyed that his definition of a small party didn’t match his friend’s, Tomlinson took a step back as Harry exchanged greetings with children that were embracing his long legs, making sure to have a little one-on-one with each of them. Finding a lifeline in the shape of Anne, heading inside with a tray of dirty dishes, he followed the woman to the kitchen.

“Oh, you don’t have to.” She reassured him once he rushed to the sink, busying himself with the dishes while Anne searched for something in her cupboards.

Even if she couldn’t really see him do that, he still shrugged his shoulders. “I know.” His response the same as all the times before when he heard her decline any help. “I need a moment, that’s not exactly what I had in mind going to  _ a small  _ party.” His chuckle was there to make sure his words weren’t misinterpreted.

“Yeah… That’s small for us alright.” Her laughter rang in the kitchen. “Not even a half of our usual Christmas crowd.”

“You’re kidding me!” There wasn’t even need for him to force the shocked attitude, he was truly flabbergasted by the revelation. “There’s no way all of you fit here.”

“We don’t, no.” Louis could see her head shaking as she stood next to him and poured a bag of candy into a bowl. “We just go to my cousin’s since his house is the biggest. Thank God, I cannot imagine hosting such a thing.”

“I can’t even imagine hosting this. You’re a wonder, Anne.” He complimented sincerely, rinsing the glasses he already washed and putting them on the drying rack.

She chortled sweetly, raking her slim fingers through the wrapped candy to evenly disperse all the different kinds. “What does Christmas in New York look like?” Her inquisitiveness didn't really come off as nosy, not at all. “Is it all grumpy people and ready-made food like in those Hallmark movies?”

He could only… laugh, her description painfully on-point. “Essentially, yeah.” Trying to be light-hearted about it, he forced a snicker. “It’s either camping in my room for two days or, if I’m lucky to get invited, spending it with my friends.”

Yeah… it was rather sad, he knew that. Pathetic to the point where he regretted even saying all of that, especially when he heard the contemplative sigh Anne managed to stifle, but not completely.

That’s how it always was though, exactly how the woman described it. When he was younger and the relations between him and the father weren’t so fucked up yet, dad would put a bit more effort than he did currently. There would be a nice catered dinner, a whole living room of gifts to make up for the year-long neglect and some time the two of them would spend watching Christmas movies after eating.

As their story went on, year by year, there was less and less of that, until it fully subsided the first year Isabella wasn’t there to force them to get together. He remembered crying a lot that Christmas, missing the woman, and maybe even the pretend homey atmosphere, didn’t matter that he was way too old to believe that any of it was real.

They still sat down to eat together that year, and there were some half-assed gifts exchanged, very obvious that pops hasn’t once laid his eyes on the ones he was giving his son, but it didn’t really matter. It was all too awkward and silent, the two of them not knowing what to talk about once there was nobody there to hold the conversation together. It was really quite obvious that this was their last Christmas together once Louis left to his room right after dinner, and  _ yeah _ , he cried that evening, and then cried even more because Isa’s absence hit him particularly hard where there was nobody knocking on his door once he left evidently distressed.

Next year he spent the holidays with Isabella, her new partner and his kids. And it was… a bit awkward at first, but it, undoubtedly, was the best Christmas he remembered, he couldn’t really vouch for these spent with his mother.

“I know nobody is planning this much in advance, but we'd be delighted to have you with us this year.” She smiled at the boy sweetly when she noticed the sudden change of mood. “We’ll be in Cleveland, not that far from New York, is it?”

“Yeah.” Louis nodded, intentionally omitting the fact that if he’s not invited to Isabella’s, he would be staying in California to be as far from his dad as it was physically possible. “Thought you’ve said you already had like fifty mouths to feed, though.” He managed to laugh, but it sounded flat, clearly forced.

“Exactly.” She cheered as if it was a positive thing. “What difference does another one make? None at all.” The bowl full of candy was lifted from the counter once Anne realised her companion was done with the dishes, wiping his hands into a towel hanging off the oven handle. “God knows you’ll have better options than us, but consider yourself invited.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you so much.” With a gentle nod of his head, he snagged the gift he brought and followed the woman to the garden, knowing that there was no actual reason for him to linger inside, his anxiety far from a viable one.

And even though he knew there was no way on earth he would be spending this year’s holidays with Harry’s family, there was this bubble of warmth that bloomed in his chest at the sole fact that Anne thought to invite him. Perhaps she didn’t hate him after all…  _ Sure _ , he was long past thinking that she did, but still. Or maybe it was just her blowing the thing he had with Harry out of proportion, it wouldn’t be shocking if she had a different idea than they did, nobody filled her in on the details, partially due to the fact that they weren’t exactly sure of them themselves, the other reason not being optimistic about how she would react to her son being in  _ that  _ sort of arrangement.

The number of people in the garden did not change at all when he returned, but something in the way they were dispersed all around the lawn rather than rushing towards him (well, Harry, but he was right next to him), made them look less intimidating. His eyes quickly snapped to a familiar heap of white curls, Albert chatting with a child that apparently, quickly got bored and gave Tomlinson the exact opportunity he needed to get rid of the bottle that weighed heavy in his hands.

He made a beeline for the birthday boy, walking past Harry as if he was a stranger, and approached the granddad. “Happy Birthday, sir. I hope you’re having a good one.” With a grin glued to his face, he quickly shook Albert’s hand, just a greeting they somehow settled on previously.

“How could I not? Gotta smile for all those poor souls that were forced to come here for once.” In spite of his words, there was no actual bitterness in Al's scratchy voice.

“I can only speak for myself, but I assure you that nobody forced me to be here. I’m honoured to be even invited.” Lou chuckled sweetly in his kissass fashion, and handed Albert the bottle concealed by a decorative bag. “Harry said this one is your favourite. I’m going to kill him if that’s not true, so you better lie if you care about his life.”

This time it was Albert that laughed, his belly-laugh far different from Lou’s breathy chuckle. “Oh, I do like that one.” He nodded, spinning the bottle in his hands before he slipped it back into the bag. “Like it so much that maybe you’ll take it inside for me, so we can have a glass later without sharing with everybody.”

Louis wasn’t entirely sure if he saw the man wink, his hooded eyes making it difficult to be positive, but he let himself believe that he did. “Naturally, sir.” Carefully omitting the fact that he should not  _ technically  _ have drinks just yet, he took over the bottle. “I’ll see you around. Let’s have some fun while we’re still young, right?” If he wasn’t sure about Albert, he definitely winked at the man, leaving not to waste more of the man’s time than he already has.

Harry was not where Louis last saw him when he was getting back inside to fulfil the promise he made to the birthday boy. His was not the first bottle standing on Albert’s dresser, which was rather sad if he was the judge of that.

See… Alcohol was a basic gift, something like flowers, chocolates or scented candles. Tomlinson had all the right to gift that bottle, already having put more effort than others, at least buying something he knew the man liked. From what he was told, these people outside were all rather close to Al, so he really expected better gifts from them, not ones matching the one he, a stranger, brought, some maybe even worse.

To buy himself a bit more time out of the crowd, he made a pit stop in the bathroom on his way back, having a quick pee and giving himself a pep-talk in the mirror before he decided that it was an asshole move to occupy the only bathroom without an actual reason with people potentially wanting to use it. So, he left, standing to the side of the door for a second before he spotted Harry quite a distance from himself.

He stood there for a beat, in the corner of his eye observing his friend having a conversation with a middle-aged pair. It took a minute before he realised that perhaps he should do…  _ something _ not to seem so weird.

It was like that goddamned potluck he went to soon after arriving on the farm. Once again he felt awkward and out of place, because that was precisely what he was, an outcast.

He was just about to start getting mad at Harry for abandoning him like that when a group of kids almost trampled him, running around the yard despite the fact that there wasn’t all that much space for them to do that. A few seconds have passed, and he spotted another one approaching. The small boy clearly tried to catch up with the older kids, without much success though, his short legs not efficient enough to keep up.

All he could do was smile at him encouragingly. “Come on, bud. You can do this.” He barely finished cheering the boy on before it became really quite obvious that he could not do it, the child tripping and falling on the few tiles of concrete that took maybe ten percent of that garden.

And he… stood there, paralyzed. He did not know how to deal with children, let alone  _ crying  _ children, and that’s exactly what he expected to witness shortly. Hell, he would be bawling his eyes out after a fall like that, so it really was just a matter of seconds before he finds himself with a wailing… toddler? Well… he really had no idea how old that unlucky chap was, just as clueless of the classification of kids according to age, so he could only guess.

Seconds passed, Louis more and more stressed with every single one, and there was nothing in the shape of bloodcurdling screech he expected to hear. At first, he even suspected that it was so loud, it left him completely deaf, but that theory was disregarded once he saw the boy’s face, determined as he got up from the tiles, slapped his hands a few times to get the dirt off them, mouth fully closed.

He seriously doubted that it was his fatherly instinct kicking in, but he couldn’t really let him run off when he spotted his rather severely scraped knees, could he? “Hold on for a second, big guy.” The boy stilled, knowing that he was addressed, looking at the adult with uncertainty in his eyes. “I am Louis, what’s your name?” The introduction was there only to get rid of that awkwardness, feeling like he was  _ that  _ stranger all the parents warned their kids about.

“Ben.” The boy still had a frown on his face, one that Tomlinson could only read as half intrigued, half cautious. “I can’t talk to you.” His head shook a few times.

“Okay, but somebody has to look at those knees of yours.” Squatting, Louis took a closer look, and just as he suspected… gross.

“They don’t hurt.”

He couldn’t not smile at the response, just for himself though, under his nose. “I see you’re a pretty tough one, aren't you?” The boy nodded. “I think I would have cried from  _ that. _ ” He tried to gain some trust by chuckling, not entirely aware what was the logic behind that. Maybe there was  _ some _ reason after all, a small chortle he got in response already more than he ever got. “These look pretty nasty, don’t you think so? Even tough guys need a band aid sometimes.”

Ben was looking around himself, far more cautious than Louis would expect a child his age to be.

“Did you get in trouble?” A familiar voice pulled attention of both Louis and the kid he was dealing with. Harry rounded the boy and measured him with his gaze. “I sure hope you two guys aren’t fighting.” His finger wiggled at them threateningly. “Oh, what are these now?”

“That awful, mean tile has tripped little Ben.” Louis explained, raising to his full-height, still having to look up at his friend. “I was just trying to convince him that we need to clean that up, but he’s way too clever to wander off with a stranger, yeah?” Ben nodded once more, looking from one adult to another.

“That’s my smart cookie.” Harry reached to ruffle the dirty blonde hair atop the boy’s head. “But I agree, these do look quite bad.” His finger pointed at the skinned knees. “So why don’t you just go with Louis inside, and I’ll join you two after I tell your mom that you’re with us, okay?” There was still some hesitation in the nod of the head they got from Ben. “Don’t worry, Louis is my good friend, I’ll be right behind you, yeah?”

And that seemed to be all that was needed to fully convince the boy, Ben taking the lead while Louis followed him to the kitchen. “Let’s get you up so I don’t break my back, yeah? Old people’s backs are pretty fragile, you know?” Tomlinson joked and hoisted the boy up to a counter next to the sink. “Don’t wiggle around too much, I can stick a band aid, but I won’t fix a broken bone if you fall off.” After getting a nod of agreement, he took a few steps to reach the one drawer he knew the first aid kit was in after he witnessed Anne cut her finger once.

He almost sighed in relief when he heard heavy steps getting louder. He was just now washing the scrapes with soap, Ben’s legs in the sink after the boy’s shoes were taken off. Of course, treating a scrape wasn’t something complicated, but he’d much rather have a second opinion.

“So, what are we dealing with? Will we have to cut these off, what’s your professional opinion, Louis?” Harry’s voice entered the kitchen before his body did, the man eventually stopping right next to his friend.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” Tomlinson hummed, playing along. “Thank God, I don’t think Anne’s bread knife would do the trick.” He chuckled, still rinsing the wounds even though he was pretty sure they were already clean. “Though I’m pretty sure my brave patient would not even flinch, hasn’t complained once.” It was weird to talk about Ben as if he wasn’t there, but somehow, it felt even weirder to talk directly  _ to  _ him, Lou didn’t know what it was all about.

Maybe it was because the second he tried to engage in a chat, he got all weird, apparently borrowing from Frank all the ‘tough chaps’, ‘bosses’, ‘big guys’ and whatever the hell else he could come up with, didn’t matter that the same nicknames irritated the shit out of him when he was the one they regarded. He’d much rather not speak at all than piss the kid off, though probably his perception of these names was far different from Ben’s.

He did a better job in that whole first aid debacle than he thought he would. Just as he suspected, it wasn’t all that complicated, but he appreciated Harry being there, distracting the curious patient who made Lou a bit unsure when he was watching his every move.

Soon enough, they were all done, Styles carrying little Ben outside and sending him off to a whole world of possible scrapes and bruises he could collect. 

The party was in full-swing already, Louis’ social meter overfilled to the point where he needed a little break from all the mingling that kicked off once Harry stepped up and introduced him to his family. So, he wandered off to the side, standing under a big crown of a tree with arms crossed on his chest.

“What are you doing?” He heard from a direction he didn’t expect to hear anything from. He looked down nonetheless, finding little Ben looking up at him.

What was he doing? Well… he doubted that the child would comprehend the concept of needing a little break from socialising. “I found a caterpillar.” That wasn’t even a lie, there was a thick, hairy caterpillar on the birdhouse he was now looking at.

“Can I see?” The child asked and reached his hands to be picked up. Not seeing a reason why not, Louis lifted him up and brought closer to the birdhouse. “It looks funny.” Ben giggled, his blue eyes widened with interest.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Lou’s head nodded. “It’s going to be a pretty butterfly or a moth.”

“A pretty moth?” Ben inquired, still staring at the bug.

“Yeah, sure.” Not much conviction in his words, Lou not exactly the biggest fan of moths and such.

So they stood there for a while, Ben held on Tomlinson’s hip as the boy inspected the discovery. However many times the teen tried to walk away, he was urged to stay put because each twitch of the caterpillar was apparently incredibly interesting.

His spatial awareness turned out to be more reliable than he ever thought it was when he realised that he was being approached before another body stood next to him. Of course, his first guess was Harry, because who else would have any interest in what he was doing? It turned out that he was wrong once his new companion spoke.

“Here we have arrived at the memento of Harry’s first visit in the principal’s office.” A voice he recognised as one belonging to his newly made acquaintance announced from behind in a tone of a museum curator. Harry’s sister stepped forward so she finally was where Lou’s eyes reached.

“What?” The teen asked, confused. “I didn’t even think it was handmade. How in the hell does one get in trouble for making  _ that _ ?” He was properly outraged by then.  _ Sure _ , the box was hardly in its prime now, the last remnants of faded orange and green paint were clinging to some places, most of it either chipped already or covered by a mossy layer developed through the years, but there was no denying that it must’ve been a whole bird mansion somewhere in the past.

“Well, they were supposed to make a jewellery box, but he spotted some sparrows hanging out in the backyard and it was winter, so of course, he decided to put the roof above their heads.” And…  _ yeah _ , that sounded exactly like something Harry would do. The very corners of Lou’s lips might have twitched at the sole thought of Styles stubbornly following through with his plan, even at the cost of his grade. Ben, bored by the conversation the adults were having, started squirming in Lou’s arms, so Louis let him go, the boy running away into the crowd. “Let’s just say that the teacher didn’t appreciate him stealing supplies from others and arguing that you could  _ technically  _ still store jewellery there.” She chuckled lightly.

“I mean, he wasn’t  _ wrong _ .” Louis supported the claim his friend made in the past.

Gemma shrugged her shoulders as she approached the birdbox. “It’s school.” She spoke. “Creativity is the last thing they want around.” She probably wasn’t wrong either, though Lou could only imagine his experience was different than normal kids'. “At least then they thought that his creative genius standing in the way of following instructions was their biggest problem with him.” She laughed, shook her head and wandered off to the side, disappearing in the house as Louis watched her go.

It was borderline cruel how she left after teasing him with information about Harry, one that he could only assume was rather juicy since it was his sister after all. Perhaps she didn’t know she left him feeling like he should know what she was talking about, like she assumed he knew something he did not. Whatever, it’s not like he could do something about it now.

At least ten different conversations were going on around the table, and when some people were juggling their attention between multiple ones, Louis was a part of none. His legs were bouncing under the table as he was aimlessly rearranging the food on his plate, taking bites once in a while so he didn't make himself stand out even more.

“So, you’re from New York?” A lifeline was thrown at him by Gemma who sat to his right with a child in her lap, apparently noticing how uncomfortable he was.

Glad to have this however basic topic to discuss, he didn’t even care who and why told her. “I am, yes.” And… he fucked it up, killing the conversation that hasn’t even properly started with his lacklustre answer.

“What’s a New York?” The remedy came in a shape of a curious toddler, but not quite, Lou didn’t know what was the official classification, but he suspected that Ben’s five years of age was above the upper limit.

Louis only chuckled, throwing a desperate gaze at a woman who caused all of it in the first place. If he was more comfortable dealing with Ben and the other kids now, at least better than he was initially, he still didn’t really know how to handle all…  _ that _ .

“New York is that big, really big city that Louis lives in.” She explained, reaching for her half-empty glass. “Bigger than any you’ve ever seen.”

“Bigger than home?” The child asked with inquisitiveness that Louis already got used to.

“Much bigger than home, yes.” Ben’s aunt (sort of, not really), confirmed, drawing a sip of her margarita.

Tomlinson remained silent through all of that, nibbling at the side salad, pretending to be healthy as if he hadn’t inhaled like a half of whatever was on that table when he arrived.

“How is it in New York?” This time, Ben’s eyes rested on Louis’ face, pulling him out of his quiet streak.

Lou forced a smile that clouded the frown that  _ almost  _ took over his face, pouting just barely so as he thought of an answer that wouldn’t completely scare the kid away from the idea of ever visiting The Big Apple.  _ Yeah,  _ he might have puked a little at that name. “There is a whole lot of people and it’s very busy.” See? He wasn’t even negative!

“More than here?”

“A bit more than that, yeah.” He snickered, chewing on a piece of gummy he stole from the table. “There are buildings so tall, they touch the sky.”

“Are they taller than me?”

He forced himself to stifle the laughter that built up in him immediately, unwilling to make Ben feel like his questions were silly. Well… they were, of course, but the curiosity was adorable. “A whole lot taller than you are.” He nodded once.

“Taller than Harry?” The boy reached for another point of reference, a man he, from what Louis observed, idolised.

Louis caught Harry’s head turning at the mention of his name, finally giving the brunette a reason to quit pretending like he wasn’t eavesdropping.

So, he acted like he was thinking about the answer as if it was not obvious, tapping his chin in contemplation. “I’d say they’re about twice as tall as Harry.”

With a shocked expression that broke off as soon as a fit of giggles started, Gemma’s fingers tickling the sides of a curious boy, the interrogation was over.

“I feel so stupid.” Louis groaned, throwing his head back as he was once again on the dishes duty, treating it as some sort of a social break he needed after over an hour outside. He wasn’t sure himself whether he was aware of how close behind him Harry was and did it intentionally or not, but he took advantage of the brief moment of solitude the two of them had, and leaned into the man, just looking for some contact that he missed more than he probably should have.

Harry hummed with his nose nuzzled in Lou’s hair that was even messier than it was when he started, and it was no good to begin with. “We can always leave.” His hands rested on the boy’s hips, pulling him into a little hug, apparently just as starved for the contact as the other guy.

Well… Louis couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t. So, he shook his head and unglued himself from Harry. “No, it’s fine.” He  _ prayed  _ Harry wouldn’t pick up on that note in his voice that clearly stated that he was far from what he claimed he was. Maybe not even that, he knew he would, already quite skilled in recognising if something wasn't completely right, but he could hope the note wouldn’t be addressed. “I just sort of feel like this is a whole  _ Dinner For Schmucks  _ situation, but everybody else forgot to bring their fool.”

“What?” Amusement loud and clear in Styles’ voice when he asked for clarification. “I’m not sure I understand the reference.”

And of course, he did not. Tomlinson doubted that stupid comedies like the one he mentioned were in his friend’s usual repertoire. “Doesn’t matter.” The boy disregarded his previous comment, drying his hands with a dish towel. “We should probably head outside.” His unwillingness to elaborate on the current state of his mind was rather evident.

“Why?” Now it was the brunette that groaned. “What’s the point if everybody hates you either way? Nobody will even notice you’re gone, right?”

And… ouch. The words shouldn’t have stung nearly as much as they did, not with the awareness that Harry wasn’t serious at all. But they did, and all of Lou’s might went into preventing himself from looking so…  _ hurt _ .

Obviously, there was no point in them staying there, so they left, stumbling upon a curious little boy standing just outside the kitchen. For a second or two, Tomlinson got a bit worried if Ben had heard anything and if yes, what he could understand out of it, but Harry didn’t seem to share his anxiety, so he dropped the subject completely.

They were sitting at that table for a solid while, Louis engaging a bit more, but still not all that much. He didn’t mind observing, at least that’s what he tried to make himself believe, enjoying the food and company of Ben, his new best bud through all of this. He didn’t really know when or why did that happen, but he had a solid suspicion that he advanced from a stranger to the position right below Harry in the kid’s eyes, and that was rather… flattering, especially considering that Styles seemed to be truly god-like in Ben’s eyes.

What it also was, apart from all the positives, was a bit of a problem whenever he needed a little pee break or just wanted to have the child off his hands for a second or two and Harry was nowhere around to rescue him.

So, as fond of Ben as he grew, Louis couldn’t say he wasn’t a bit relieved once the guests started leaving, and right around the time the sun started setting, all the children were gone. And maybe he choked up a bit when they were saying their goodbyes, and his new friend whispered in his ear that he doesn’t hate him, therefore exposing himself for eavesdropping on the conversation from the kitchen.

Soon enough, everybody was gone and all there was left were five people and mess to take care of.  _ Surely _ , they could not possibly leave Anne and her daughter to take care of all of it, so they rushed to help clean everything up.

Louis might have been a bit salty that the dishes duty was claimed by Gemma and he was forced to run back and forth from and to the garden, hauling trays upon trays of stuff back into the house for the women to take care of. 

But then, there was an advantage of that in a whole avalanche of smaller and bigger kisses he managed to steal in the passing. He couldn’t exactly claim that he didn’t enjoy that after a whole evening of pretending to be just a casual acquaintance of Harry’s.

With brunette’s long legs and superior balance worthy of a professional waiter, they managed to get through their work rather quickly, especially considering that Louis was doing a rather bad job himself.

“Thank you so much.” Harry murmured against Lou’s lips, still leaned from kissing him when they left outside, well aware that there was not enough stuff left for both of them to bring inside.

“For what?” The shorter one chuckled, reaching to press his lips against the brunette’s once again, just for a second or two, his hands looped around his friend’s midsection as he tasted the alcohol on his friend’s lips.

Louis got no response at first, just another kiss and a gentle caress on his smooth cheek. He attempted to pressure the man for an answer, trying to take a step back so there was nothing Harry could distract himself with, but his back immediately hit the tree they were hiding behind, so he was trapped. From the stupid grin on his companion’s face, he could tell Styles enjoyed that position of power he suddenly found himself in.

“Thank you for coming here even though I know you didn’t really want to.” One peck was laid on the very tip of the teen’s nose. As endearing as it was, Louis almost cringed at the thought of how disgusting his face was after a whole day outside.

“Eh, I guess it was better than work.” His shoulder blades did not appreciate the scrape of tree bark when he shrugged.

“Now how do I get us out of here so I can properly thank you?”

Tomlinson looked at him like he was stupid and snorted, unhooking his hands and letting them drop at his sides. “So, what now?” He laughed again. “You’re going to suck me off because I didn’t join in on the collective tantrum when it went down?” Yeah… that was a thing for a while, thankfully enough the parents of misbehaving kids taking a note and leaving soon after their offspring started becoming cranky.

“No.” Styles croaked, some of his voice lost with his lips pressed to the pulse point on Lou’s neck, nosing his way all the way down to his collarbone only to come back up to his ear right away. “I’m going to suck you off because frankly, you owe me that.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Borderline outraged, Tomlinson asked, still pivoting his head in a way that gave his friend better access, clearly not being  _ that  _ offended with his words. “What exactly do I owe you for?” He inquired, his voice rather neutral since he needed to hear the reasoning before he got all triggered.

And just as if that was a viable answer, Harry’s big hands followed the route down the boy’s sides only to take a turn at his thighs, cupping his ass to the point that he probably would’ve lifted him if Lou wasn’t determined to stay on the ground. “For wearing those jeans today.” He grumbled, fingers still digging into the flesh through the harsh denim. “Making my family think I’m some sort of a pervert for staring at my co-worker’s ass.” If Tomlinson was rather toasty in the evening heat as it was, his temperature spiked once one of the hands he had previously on his ass slid to the front and straight-up groped his junk. “I can’t even count how many times I’ve been caught tonight.”

With a shocked gasp as a reaction to Styles’ rather bold endeavour, pushing the wandering hand away before he had a chance to pop an embarrassing boner, Louis rolled his eyes to the dark sky peeking through the green foliage above them. “Had it ever occurred to you that perhaps you are a pervert?” Yeah, he really couldn’t explain it otherwise when the man was practically attempting to rub him off in his mother’s back garden with the probability of them getting caught being at least high.

Harry only shook his head, utmost conviction of his judgement shining in his sharp features before Louis exploited a small opening he noticed and slipped away from the improvised confinement he was kept in for a while now.

To keep the story straight, he swiped the last of partially filled booze bottles and entered the house, taking a deep breath to shake off the feeling of Harry’s fingers still on his body. “That would be everything.” He announced once his feet hit the cold tile of the kitchen, the bottles set on the table right where the rest of them stood. “Anne, I am going to send you my gym bill for the month, I swear to god.” A joke was thrown in the air as he stole a pig in a blanket from the tray of leftovers, chowing through the snack when two women he joined in the kitchen chuckled politely.

It wasn’t that good of a joke, but he still was rather satisfied. It would’ve been better if his body showed any evidence of him ever stepping a foot into a gym, but it was rather difficult for it to if he literally has  _ never  _ been in one. Well… no, he was, but he spent the whole hour sitting on the floor when his friend worked out. Don’t judge him.

“Deal, but now just eat up, there’s not enough room in the fridge for all of that.” She smiled at him sweetly, and sure enough, it’s not like he had to be told twice, even if his stomach was on the verge of bursting.

Sighing as if he was incredibly inconvenienced by the order, he rolled his eyes to add more punch to the act. “If I  _ have to _ .” The groan barely left his mouth before Louis stuffed it with food, a tray of finger-food already in his hand as he stood next to the table and committed to surpassing the world record of the most calories eaten in a day.

Thank God, not much cleaning was to be done when Louis’ part was finished, so he let the women handle it, just as they told him they would.

He had no idea how many times he sort of started to make an excuse to leave, but not once succeeded, it was really quite obvious that he didn’t do a very good of a job as he was still slouched into the corner of Anne’s couch, staring at the glass he held in his hand. 

At least that was something that happened, Albert delivering on his promise and serving a drink to everybody. Thankfully enough, the birthday guy completely disregarded Harry’s slurry protest because ‘if he’s old enough to go to war, he’s old enough to have a drink’. Well… that was a rather good argument, though Lou would support everything if it meant he would end up with some booze.

In fact, he should have probably protested when Harry was given a glass, already having one too many as it was. But he said nothing, unwilling to come off overly worried or controlling, and now he was suffering consequences of his silent compliance, the man squishing him into the corner of the couch, his head resting on Lou’s arm that was asleep from the lack of proper circulation.

Harry was…  _ out _ , at least for the most part, grumbling his insight into conversations that the more conscious members of the party were having, nothing overly serious, just hanging out and throwing comments at the SNL episode they caught airing.

For the first time since they arrived at Anne’s that particular day, Lou felt rather comfortable, like he wasn’t a burden, and that’s precisely why he hadn’t insisted all that much on taking off, especially that he had a good idea that he will be going home alone, leaving Harry on his mother’s couch to sleep the booze away.

A particularly loud commercial snapped both Albert and Harry from the little naps they were taking, the eldest companion deciding that it’s time for him to head to the bedroom he took over after his granddaughter rather than interrupt the chill hangout with his snoring.

And then, there were four… Three rather since Harry shouldn’t really be counted, quickly back to snoring with his face buried in his friend’s tee.

Louis would’ve been worried about this rather suspicious affection if he wasn’t already aware that this was who his friend was, a cuddly drunk, far from the aggressive one the teen suspected him of being at first.

“You better get a comfortable couch for your living room.” Gemma responded to the revelation that Louis was soon to be a San Francisco resident, a fact that came up when he was asked about his school once again, not that he really minded.  _ Okay,  _ maybe he did a bit, but it was only because it reminded him of the whole business school debacle and he decided not to think about it anymore since his worrying had absolutely no influence on his future. “Don’t be surprised if I knock on your door and announce a sleepover.”

Louis chuckled and nodded his head once. “Show up with a bottle of Pinot Grigio and you can stay as long as you want.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.” The woman sparked up with excitement, looking at Louis from the armchair she moved to after Albert left it vacant, tired of having to crane her neck to have a look at the company. “Though I’m more of a boxed wine kind of lady, how very sophisticated of me.”

“Boxed will suffice.” Of course, it would. He was not picky about his booze, not at all. Some of his friends claim he has a terrible taste, but the ability to get smashed on anything was rather useful when he was cut off, and the money was tight. “I’m not nearly as picky as one might assume.”

Anne gave both of them a disapproving look, though she really couldn’t hide the amusement that pulled the corners of her lips upwards.

The conversation fizzled out after that, everybody too tired to carry it, just enjoying the silent company in front of the TV. Louis got a refill of the Scotch he already had a glass of, and accepted it with hidden enthusiasm, not wanting to come-off as a teenage alcoholic in front of Harry’s sister who poured his second drink.

Anne was yawning all throughout the hangout, stroking the fluffy fur of her housecat. To be fair, she had way more reasons to be exhausted than anybody else, but still pulled through, already having announced that the end of SNL is her official deadline. As her glass of red wine was slowly emptying, the show started coming to an end, the last commercial break in full-swing.

Gemma was fumbling with the camera that covered her face for most of the evening, deeming herself an unofficial, unpaid photographer of Albert’s birthday party. She was holding it in her lap, a setup that Louis could deem professional from the limited knowledge he gained whenever Vanessa, his friend, would babble about the hobby she happened to share with Harry’s sister. Not much information stuck in his head from the rants about the lenses, the lights and whatever else he forgot. In his opinion, a phone camera was sufficient enough to snap a picture.

Before he could oppose, the camera was back on him, Gemma fully disregarding the ban he gave her the first time he caught her taking a picture of him. A flash lit up the living room, disapproving grunt from Anne clashed with something that would’ve knocked Louis out of his shoes if he was wearing any. “So, how long are you two boning?” The woman asked casually, too focused on the viewfinder of her camera.

And Louis… died just about there. It wasn’t even that far from the truth, choking on the sip of drink he was in the middle of taking, coughing and spluttering after almost losing a tooth when the rim of the glass collided with it.

“Gemma!” The mother, with an expression of utmost shock on her face, reprimanded her daughter’s manners, and  _ yeah _ , she had all the reasons to do that. Inviting herself to Lou’s apartment when they barely knew each other was one thing, but the boldness of her attitude wasn’t something the teen would expect even from a friend.

“What?” The photographer  _ almost  _ responsible for Lou’s demise asked, apparently not seeing anything wrong with her inquiry, just as if she just asked about her new acquaintance’s favourite beverage and not…  _ that. _

Louis knew he was making himself look guilty, struggling to catch a breath, feeling himself blushing like an idiot he was. The other Styles decided to make his life even harder, throwing a hand over the teen’s midsection and fully embracing the boy, unaware that his cuddle buddy was on the verge of cardiac arrest caused by the brunette’s very sister.

“We-“ Another cough cut him off just when he thought he was over the fit. “We’re not.” The lie was only there to bring him some comfort, trying to foolishly convince himself that he wasn’t as obvious as he was in all of this, leaning away from Harry as if it wasn’t making his case worse.

“Okay then.” Gemma shrugged in her armchair, her movement caught in the corner of Lou’s eye as he wasn’t even able to look at her, avoiding eye contact adding to the things that made him look even more guilty. “Forget I asked, goddamn.” She added, throwing her hands up in reaction to a furious look she got from her mother, gaining herself another one of these with her profanity.

It probably wouldn’t be all that shocking if Louis said that there was no salvaging this conversation, right? There was not, the teen all too uncomfortable under Gemma’s scrutiny to let himself say anything more than a quick goodnight he threw at Anne after he reassured her he would be walking home, still thanking her for the offer to crash on the fold-out sofa with her son. Let’s just say that if he would perhaps consider this option previously, now he would rather sleep on the street than do that.

The culprit behind Tomlinson’s bizarre behaviour took off soon after, seeing that there was no way she would have a normal chat with a boy she scared off with her nosiness. And then, there was no reason for Louis to stay any longer. Almost one in the morning, he started squirming out from under Harry, reaching for the drink his friend abandoned before his nap and downing it in one go, feeling like that’s what he needed at the moment.

Either Harry was too heavy, or he was too small because he struggled to free himself from under him. Perhaps it was both.  _ Yeah,  _ it was definitely both. As much as he tried to avoid it, knowing that his escape wasn’t going to be nearly as easy if Styles woke up, his squirming caused exactly that, the brunette’s eyes opening, a few lazy blinks before he spoke. “Where are you going?” The grogginess lowered his voice to borderline inhuman frequencies.

“To the farm, it’s late already.”

The explanation the teen uttered didn’t go well with Styles, his face contorting in a grimace. “You wanted to leave me here.” The tone of the accusation more matching murder than Louis’ actual crime, or rather the lack of it.

Knowing that lying wouldn’t get him anywhere, Louis nodded. “Correct.” The expression of utmost outrage deepened on brunette’s face. “And I still think it’s better if you crash here.”

The lazy shaking of Harry’s head was all Lou needed to know how tired his friend was, giving him all the more reasons to leave him at Anne’s. It was almost shocking how they both felt more exhausted from socialising than from their daily work. “No.” Stubborn Styles made a cameo, expectedly, of course.

Louis could only sigh, helping his friend get up from the couch, waiting for the man regain balance,  _ if  _ he was ever going to do that. “You can come if you think you’ll make it on your feet, because I’m sure as hell not hauling you there.” His shoulders shrugged as he grabbed the glasses from the coffee table and padded to the kitchen to give them a quick wash, leaving them to dry on a clean dish towel since the dryer was criminally overfilled as it was.

Harry was very obviously behind him, his breathing heavier than usual. So, he chose to tag along. Cool… not really. Louis did not want responsibility for anything more than two boxes of leftovers Anne packed for him to take, but even if the situation was far from ideal, he had to push through.

It didn’t take long for Louis, being the only one that cared about these kinds of nuances out of the two of them, to shut the lights off, and soon enough they were on their way. Well… not quite. Trusting Harry to take care of a tote with the leftovers for a second, Louis opened the foolishly unlocked door of the truck they arrived in, pulled the key out of ignition and circled the car to lock it, tossing the keys into the pocket of his jeans, so tight there was no way they would make it out of there without him noticing.

And then, they walked. The night was colder than it seemed to be when they were inside, goosebumps rising over Lou’s skin when he was hit with a particularly cold gust of wind. There was a benefit of the temperature though, the surprising chilliness of the air seemed to sober Harry up a bit, his step not quite as wobbly as it initially was after being exposed to it for a bit.

It was pitch black outside, only stars guiding their way home. No… he was bullshitting, all too aware that he wouldn’t be able to make it if he had not driven this road so many times with Harry. He made turns based on the landmarks he observed all these times before. Left at the porcelain dog that laid tipped over on the lawn of a particularly ugly, pink house, far less offensive in the darkness that covered the horrid choice of colour.

Then, it was right past that wooden roadside shrine that was there for reasons unknown to Louis. Either somebody lost their life there, or it was decided to be a perfect place for some religious worship, he only knew that he had to turn right there and go straight for… a while.

The silence was broken only by the scraping of their shoes over the dirt, the only variation an accidental pebble that either kicked here and there. Louis wasn’t in much of a hurry to get back, and even if he was, it wouldn’t really matter all that much with Harry’s leisurely tempo that was so uncharacteristic to him, Lou almost scoffed.

“I am…  _ drunk _ .” Harry chuckled when they stepped off the main road, still something around a mile for them to walk, maybe a bit more than that.

“You are.” The teen responded matter-of-factly, all but ready to crack jokes after whatever the hell happened at Anne’s, even if he, ever since they walked out of the woman’s house, tried to completely deny the reality of that encounter, leaving it aside to deal with a sober Harry, not the current one.

To be honest, he wasn’t even sure if there was a point in telling his friend about all of that. From what he knew, Gemma was going to be gone by Thursday, and he  _ surely  _ could live four days without visiting Anne, couldn’t he?

But then, how would he explain his reluctance to visit without telling Harry about the awkward encounter? Yeah… this one and a few more questions were left for future Louis to deal with. At least that’s what he tried to do, forget about it, not conscious enough to make these kinds of decisions. But he struggled, still looping the smug smirk on Gemma’s face in his head.

It was only the unexpectedness of the touch that snapped him out of it. A feeling of Harry’s clammy hand on his, their fingers intertwined almost instinctively as they shamelessly paraded their shared fondness out in the open. Not exactly… the pitch black of the night was rather far from ‘out in the open’, but it still was the furthest they ever got.

Louis didn’t really think there was something more to it than Harry’s drunken touchiness, therefore he hasn’t assigned any tremendous meaning to the gesture, letting the man hold his hand as they walked to the farmhouse.

A step into the house, and Louis sort of waited for his hand to be let go of, just as it always happened according to the rule of no affection in communal spaces that they only rarely broke. This seemed to be the case now, drunk Harry treating their made-up law rather loosely as he accompanied his friend to the kitchen where the leftovers were dropped off in the fridge, their hands still linked as they made it up the stairs, Harry giggling like stupid after tripping on the noisiest of the stairs, paying no mind to Louis’ shushing.

As soon as he managed to force Harry into his bed, Louis left, not waiting for the snoring to start since he had a good idea that his friend was just as exhausted as he was, more probably. And that fatigue forced a cry of despair from his throat once he stepped into his bedroom, and his eyes fell on the pile of clothes he completely forgot he left on his bed.

Of course, he was not going to fold it now, he wasn’t clinically insane, but even transporting it somewhere else seemed like a chore he wasn’t able to complete right now. So, with that in mind, he put the image of his entire wardrobe piled on the mattress somewhere in the back of his head, and retracted his steps to the bathroom, giving himself a bit of time to get used to the thought that there was one rather major thing he had to deal with before he goes to sleep.

With a toothbrush clasped between his fingers, brushing away the taste of not particularly good Scotch, he let his brain fully clear out, not a thought in his head as he went through the step of his nightly routine on an autopilot, eyes stuck on a handle to one of the cabinets. It felt as if he dozed off for a little, even though his arm didn’t stop moving for a second, a bizarre thing truly.

Somewhere in between rinsing his mouth off the foam, he yelped, surprised by fingers digging into his hips as he leaned towards the faucet. And then it was clear why he hadn't heard Harry snoring like he normally would in the bathroom.

Startled yet happy he hadn’t knocked himself out hitting the door to the medicine cabinet he left open, he still bent his right leg and kicked his friend, Harry chuckling at this rather lousy attempt at revenge. “I am going to murder you.” The boy threatened, eyeing his pal with pretend fury. “You should be asleep.”

“I thought we had plans.” Styles smiled sweetly, his boozy breath clashing with the mint on Lou’s lips, overpowering it as the man leaned in to press the very tip of his nose to Louis’. His hands were getting ahead of him, already spread over the back pockets of Lou’s jeans.

As loud as two and a half drink Louis was expressing his approval for the touch, the sober one was more stubborn, staying still, thinking that maybe this unbothered stance will scare Harry off. “No,  _ you  _ had plans.” The teen stressed with impatience tainting his words. “My only plan for right now is going to sleep, and I would very much appreciate it if you just did the same.” He argued with utmost conviction in his words, blinking lazily at the man who was now looking at him with a furrow in his eyebrows.

Harry didn’t say a word to that, just blinked back as if he was trying to say something with it. If he was, none of that was understood by the shorter guy. “Can I at least get a goodnight kiss?” His eyelashes fluttered charmingly, a sweet smirk bending his lips.

“I’ve just brushed my teeth.” Louis provided an argument why it was not a good idea at all. It wasn’t even made up, he really didn’t want Harry’s foul mouth on his right now. “So…  _ no _ .”

A disappointed grunt seeped through Styles’ nostrils, alarmingly close to the other guy’s ear as the brunette leaned and reached for his toothbrush, with surprising ease starting to brush his teeth to get what he wanted.

“I’m not going to watch you now, am I?” Harry’s outraged expression once Tomlinson slipped away from him met with that explanation. “You’re not five years old, you can manage.” And with that, they separated, Louis (of course), leaving the bathroom door open for reasons unknown to him, but rooted so deep inside of him, he couldn’t even imagine himself closing it.

Grumbling furiously under his nose, he just stared at the pile for a longer while, cursing past Louis for being such an idiot. Well… the clothes were not going to collect themselves, were they? So, soon enough, Lou started looking for a space where he could just dump them for the night without wrinkling them terribly. There was… no such place, a rather limited selection of furniture already all taken up by his bullshit.

“Weren’t you supposed to be in bed already if you’re so incredibly tired?” Harry derided once he let himself join his friend, setting his head on Lou’s shoulder, hands back on the teen’s hips as he looked at the same mess the shorter one was silently crying over. “Now that’s unfortunate.” The chuckle that vibrated on Lou’s shoulder was, despite the intonation to the statement, all but concerned.

Louis couldn’t see it with Styles standing behind him, but he would bet all his father’s money that there was this stupid grin on his face right now. “Did you lose something here?” The feisty side of tipsy Lou made a cameo for the first time in front of Harry who couldn’t really care less, crossing his arms on his friend’s slightly protruding belly.

“You.” He murmured in response, twisting his head to lay a peck on Lou’s rather soft jawline. “Let’s go, it’s too late for rearranging your wardrobe.”

And even if that annoying side of him wanted to oppose, Louis complied and let himself be led out to Harry’s bedroom, not seeing a way how sleeping in his small bed, something that they’ve done repeatedly as it was, was any worse than cleaning up so late at night.

“You’re giving me all the reasons not to ever let you drink.” Harry chuckled as he was struggling to get Louis’ tee off, his friend not exactly making his job any easier with how stubbornly he kept his hands down. “Soo cranky.” His head shook, a smirk on his lips as he moved down, deeming the jeans easier to take off even with how tightly they hugged the boy’s legs.

“Rude.” Louis snarled, eyes stuck to the man who kneeled at his feet, tugging the stiff denim off his legs. “I can undress myself, you know?”

As if he never heard anything, Harry urged his friend’s legs up one by one, the jeans quickly discarded somewhere to the side. “But it’s more fun like that.” He insisted, getting up after ridding Lou off his socks.

“Is it now?” A scoff settled on Harry’s lips that were soon pressed to Louis’ for a quick peck. “I don’t have time for that.” With that protest, even if he was the one who was prolonging the whole thing, Louis rid his pal off the dubious pleasure of getting his tee off.

The last of the brain cells that weren’t taken hostage by either alcohol or exhaustion, told him to act responsible, and so he did, leaning down to retrieve the car keys from the pocket of his jeans, setting them somewhere they wouldn’t miss them in the morning. Soon enough, he was already pressed to the wall since that’s what had to be done when sharing a single mattress with a rather sizable young man.

Usually, it was Harry who sacrificed his comfort and spent the night against the wall, but somehow, with the booze running through his veins, Lou’s body ran a bit hotter than it usually did, so he didn’t mind, staring at his friend as he struggled with the buttons of the shirt he managed to stain rather heavily that night.

“Just take it off, for the love of god.” He grumbled into the pillow, waiting for the lights to come off and he could sleep.

And Harry listened, taking his top off with the buttons still mostly done, in the matter of seconds turning the night lamp off and slipping under the covers, stark naked. “About the plans…” He spoke, hand making its way up from Lou’s knee to the destination that was really quite obvious.

“One more word and I will strangle you.” Eyes still closed, Louis threatened, wrapping his fingers around Harry’s wrist like a vice, moving it to his waist where he didn’t really mind it.

“There’s not much talking where I’m headed.”

With a fond smirk on his lips, Louis smacked his friend on this face, not really that much force put into it. “ _ Shut up. _ ” He snarled, guiding his hand down to hold Harry’s mouth shut. Surprisingly enough, this unlikely solution turned out to be successful.

For a second or two, Louis might have thought he accidentally obstructed Styles’ nostrils and suffocated him, but the snore he felt against his pinky finger soothed the alarm, and soon enough, there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello guys  
> as promised- this one was longer, and it's one of a few chapters i don't feel self-conscious about- i hope y'all enjoyed it as well
> 
> anyways... i hope y'all are doing alright in these trying times. remember to be kind, follow louis' playlist on spotify, don't believe everything you see in the media, and take care of yourself- take a break if you need it.  
> that's all from me, see you next week


	17. Chapter 17

Oh…  _ God.  _ Louis wished he was just now queuing in front of the pearly gates because dying sounded like a great time for him now that he laid smashed into the wall with what it felt like two inches of mattress for himself. Despite it being completely silent around, well… apart from the puffs of Harry’s breath, but that’s something he learned to ignore already, he felt like he was stuck in a drum that somebody was pounding on furiously.

The headache he was suffering from was not proportional to the amount of alcohol he consumed last night, but then, it was Scotch, and somehow whiskey always fucked him up the worst. Only the one time he tried Absinthe carried a memory of a hangover worse than the ones he woke up with every time he as little as took a whiff of somebody’s glass of whiskey.

He shouldn’t have done that, he knew that now. ‘Look at me, I’m such a big boy, I drink  _ alcohol _ .’ Half of his brain capacity was taken up by mocking himself, regretting each of the drinks he accepted last night. There was no explanation why he hadn’t asked for a glass of wine instead, other than his unexplained cockiness that landed him on the verge of dying from reasons varying from the actual hangover to suffocating under Harry’s body.

Even if it was the last thing he felt like doing for the next… thirty years, at the very least, the Scotch weighed heavy in his bladder, eager to get out, which was probably the first step in Lou’s recovery, but he  _ really  _ didn’t want to get up.

It could only get worse if he procrastinated, so he didn’t, scrambling to his knees and stepping over Harry’s sleeping silhouette, the man stirring out of his slumber when Tomlinson stumbled a bit and was forced to anchor himself by placing a flattened palm on the man’s bare chest.

“No…” Styles protested, catching his friend’s wrist almost on instinct. “I want a cuddle.” He croaked lowly, eyes still closed as he refused to end the night right there.  _ Good _ , it wasn’t over at all, Louis caught the face of the clock, the shorter hand barely past eight in the morning.

“I need to take a leak.” With that excuse, Louis almost fell off the bed before his body remembered to balance itself, and saved him from face-planting onto the carpet, apparently deciding that he was miserable enough without that.

Let’s just say that there were a few extra steps between leaving the bed and returning. At first, he was sitting for solid ten minutes on the toilet with head stuck between his knees, fighting through the nausea that took over him as soon as he managed to empty his bladder.

Then, he thought the shower would be a solution to his misery, and it sort of was as it turned out after fifteen minutes he spent standing still with his head down, eyes closed as the water soothed him.

Half an hour later, dressed in a clean pair of boxers and a jersey tee he  _ might have  _ stolen from Harry’s closet as if he didn’t have all of his clothes all laid out and ready to grab, he dragged his lifeless body down the stairs, heading for the kitchen where he downed three glasses full of cold water as another step in his recovery.

He was just panting his way through the last one when Ada entered the kitchen, wearing one of her church dresses. “I assume Harry won’t be attending church today?” A pitiful smile was thrown at Louis, who wouldn’t have approved of it if he wasn’t so obviously miserable.

“He was the worse of the two of us, so I guess not.” His voice unrecognizably hoarse when he approached the junk drawer and pulled it open, navigating straight to the bottle of Advil he spotted there when he was looking for tongs once. “We’ll going to need these.”

“And a few extra hours in bed, that’s for sure.” Ada sent him upstairs with that, the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water to chase the pills with.

And maybe he debated on swallowing the entire handful of them as he stared at himself in the mirror, but he settled for two and a prayer. Maybe in the spirit of Sunday, God would take pity on him and either make him feel better or just fully end his suffering and send him straight to hell since that sounded better than whatever he was going through now.

“Okay, yeah. Swallow now.” Louis guided his friend after slipping two capsules of Advil into his mouth, the man taking a sip of water to wash it down.  _ Yeah _ , it would’ve been far easier to execute if Harry wasn’t still laid down, but he refused to sit up, so that’s what the teen was dealing with now, a stubborn and hungover Harry who seemed to need these painkillers just as desperately as Lou did when he first woke up.

It was something around an hour since Louis’ agony started, now somewhat dulled down with ibuprofen as he slipped back into the bed to maybe take a nap or two to sleep through the worst of it. He took advantage of Harry’s sleepy daze and used all of his force and then some to shove the man towards the wall where it was cold and he didn’t want to touch it.

So, he laid there, half on top of Harry, half on the sliver of mattress that his friend left for him, not that he really minded all that much. Fuck no, he didn’t mind at all. “You are so hot.” He mumbled on the verge of sleep, his cheek smushed into Harry’s chest. “Like a furnace.” Just to get even more of that warmth for himself, he threw one of his legs over Harry’s.

“What are you doing?” Styles laughed when after solid thirty minutes of alternating cuddles and naps, Louis somehow found himself fully on top of him. “Soo cuddly.” He croaked, his fingers still absentmindedly stroking Louis’ back, just barely grazing the surface of his skin. “Uh oh, not that cuddly, are you?” Both of them shook as the taller man laughed, feeling curious fingers reaching down as soon as they heard Frank and Ada leave for church.

“You wouldn’t sound so stupid if it wasn’t for this.” Still very much cuddled up, Louis wrapped his fingers around the girth of the morning wood Harry maintained for a…  _ while,  _ the horniness from the night before catching up to him in his sleep.

After furiously rubbing the sleep off his eyes with balled fists, Harry blinked a few times at his friend, making grabby hands to hopefully get the boy back on his chest from where he was now being straddled, the thin covers anchored at Lou’s shoulders to provide them with privacy that was already all there with the two of them being the only people in the house. “I look like shit.” An excuse was made as if Louis couldn’t see for himself and assess whether Harry looked good enough for him.

“You do.” Yeah, he did, though Louis didn’t really mind. He liked morning Harry just like he liked Harry any other time of the day. All groggy and puffy, hair a proper knot atop his head, he looked rather…  _ normal _ , for once. “But that fucking thing has been poking me the entire night, so I think I’ll just have to suffer through it before I can go back to sleep.”

A sweet smile stretched the brunette’s lips as he let his hands fall, giving Lou’s thighs a squeeze, pulling him a bit towards himself so he didn’t have to strain his arms so much. “You, on the other hand…” A soft hum settled on Louis’ lips as the boy leaned down to join their lips in a kiss, just a peck since Harry was maybe a bit reluctant to disturb the mintiness he felt on his partner’s lips with his… honestly, he felt like he was suckling on a jockstrap.

“I knooow.” Louis groaned, rolling his eyes with as much blasé as he could fit in these two words. “I just woke up too.” He leaned forward, setting his palms on his friend’s chest as he teasingly thrusted his pelvis, eliciting a content groan from the guy under him. “Haven’t just spent an hour in the bathroom, not at all.”

“Are you rushing somewhere?” The question threw Tomlinson off a bit, the boy frowning briefly. “They’re going to be gone for solid two hours.”

“Answering questions what in the hell happened to the town’s golden boy.” Lou scoffed. “It must’ve been quite a tragedy if he didn’t make it to church, I can only assume.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Suddenly not as compliant as before, Harry pushed his friend off himself, quickly slipping into the more dominant position not to let his friend claim it. “ _ Sure _ , you have looked better before, but tragedy is a big word to use.”

The joke  _ almost  _ slipped past Lou’s radar with the first stroke of the blade of Harry’s tongue over his left nipple, the man already on his task even though he just claimed they weren’t in a hurry. “Asshole.” The reaction was drawn through Lou’s teeth as he smacked his companion on the top of his head, still exhaling softly at the wet swipes on his skin. “I don’t think you are going to church anytime soon.”

The teen’s head was pressed deep into the pillow it laid on when he felt teeth grazing on the skin over his hipbone, Styles making his way down with clear intentions. “I can live with that.” Heading more towards the centre, he slipped his big palms in between the younger one’s legs, parting them for himself. “I’ll just go when you are asleep.” His chuckle brushed the tender skin on the insides of Louis’ thighs, Harry nibbling his way up from just above the knee upwards, pacing both himself and the object of his rather cruel teasing. “That will give me like eighteen hours to go, it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry?” Harry’s head was once again smacked with a flattened palm of Lou’s. “I don’t remember you being this mean yesterday.”

“How cuddly are we talking about?” Bingo! The brunette hit a bullseye with his guess, apparently more aware of his drunken…  _ condition _ , than Louis assumed he would be.

“ _ Very. _ ” Louis’ answer was distorted by a moan that clawed its way out of his lungs when Harry’s mouth finally made it right where Louis wanted it. Well… it’s not that the other party didn’t want it there as well, though the farmer had a taste for a bit of suspense before he fully dives in.

“ _ Nice _ .” Harry croaked, knowing that there was no way they would be able to hold a conversation with Louis’ breathing getting increasingly laboured, and the other guy already had plans to engage his mouth otherwise.

And then… Styles dove in, holding the very base of his friend’s cock as he let the most of it slip past his lips, his broad tongue curving around the underside of it before his gag reflex put the stop to the bold endeavour he had on his agenda.

If Harry didn’t get to chose his favourite song for the day just yet, he might have found one for… the rest of the month, at the very least, when something that could’ve been only described as a combination of a whine, a moan and a blissful cry, tore through the undisturbed air, maybe a breathy sigh in the mix that fell out of the opened window for whoever cared to listen.

The change of the position was initiated by the pleasurer who turned both of them to the side, pulling a pillow under his head not to strain his neck all too much, having planned a bit of an adventure with Louis’ cock that already fully hardened in his mouth. And that… was something Tomlinson wished never happened, because it was arguably the worst thing that ever happened to him, while, paradoxically, being the best one at the same time.

Lazy blowjobs were…  _ a thing _ . A thing Louis, in his rather short life, hasn’t yet got a chance to experience, and  _ oh boy _ , he was missing out.

It was unbearable at times, especially when he’s gotten oh-so-close, and was, time after time, denied release he needed more than he initially thought he did, but  _ fuck _ , it felt nice as he was being brought straight to the edge.

“You are a cruel man, Harry Styles.” Louis whined from his comfortable spot on the pillow, trying to stop himself from snapping his legs closed around Styles’ head, overwhelmed with licks applied to his throbbing boner, sparse for the sake of not letting him reach his peak. It didn’t help that the stimulation spread to his nether regions, two of the brunette’s fingers slowly scissoring his partner open for himself, leaving the lube out of the equation for that part since whatever wetness he left there when his tongue wandered south was sufficient.

“I’m on a soup diet for the rest of the day.” Harry laughed, testing the hinges in his sore jaw. “And  _ you  _ are going to feed me.” He continued conversationally, another finger added to the pair already inside of Louis, the boy gasping once the bunch curved in rehearsed manner. “ _ Spoon by spoon. _ ”

“Fine by me.” Tomlinson sighed out, relaxing under the touch of a man that was now staring at every shift of his expression. Embarrassing if you ask him, but Louis couldn’t bring himself to give a flying fuck. “But can you just…  _ please _ .”

“I mean, the hastiness is nice when we’re in a barn or something, but we have plenty of time to play around.” Yeah,  _ sure.  _ Look who’s so eager to play when it’s not him who is suffering through the perpetual blue balls.

“I hate you. I hate you…” The boy mumbled under his breath up until the fingers were retracted and he was left ready for the next step, even if he, from the start, claimed that he didn’t need all that pleasure bordering on torture in the first place, already having prepared himself as diligently as it ever got.

And Harry finally gave way, and reached for the drawer of his nightstand to pull out the box that accompanied most of their late evenings. “Oh-“ His teeth gritted once he flipped the thing upside down and nothing but the pamphlet fell out of it. “Now who do we blame for that?” Keeping it light, the man let himself fall on his back, staring at the ceiling, coming to terms with the fact that major obstacles have come up on their way.

“No…” Louis’ head shook frantically. “ _ No. _ ” There was no way he would let it end right there. “ _ Nuh uh. _ ” A determined look on his face, he quickly scrambled to Harry’s lap, straddling his friend, hands on the brunette’s chest as he leaned down to kiss the man, perhaps persuade him into following through with their plans. 

Styles could only laugh, not exactly surprised with the fact that his partner refused to let that inconvenience stand in their way. “ _ Louis _ .” There was no actual conviction in the protest, but he did oppose, so it counted. 

“No ‘ _ Louis’ _ .” The boy groaned, rolling his eyes in irritation. What was the worst thing about that, was the fact that he was actually to blame for the whole ordeal, pulling the last condom out of the box the last time the two of them fooled around, forgetting to bring that to Harry’s attention in the thrill of it all. “I’m fine, are you fine?”

“Probably, yeah.” Still a trace of reluctance present in his words. “I doubt STI is a souvenir you would like to bring back from this vacation.” His fingers laid spread on the arms of a boy that was now getting close to kiss him again, knowing exactly what to do to get him to comply.

“You don’t have an STI.” Louis, with the conviction of an actual doctor, reassured his friend, their chests pressed together as he clung to Harry’s body like a sloth would, or koala bear, either worked.

But then, he remembered something and scrambled back onto his legs, not saying a word as he left the bedroom that lately was more communal than Harry's.

Sitting on the floor, he was rummaging through all the compartments of his suitcase that seemed like it had a million of those now that he knew the solution to his current biggest problem was in one of them. It was a while since he even saw his wallet, but he knew that he had to have a condom there, he always did because… he wanted to say he was responsible, but it wasn’t entirely the case.

In his naked glory, Harry crept into the bigger bedroom and looked at his friend with a question in his gaze, the boy still patting the entire interior of his nearly empty luggage, a small ‘fuck yes’ whispered when he finally stumbled upon what he desperately searched for.

“You don’t have to run from me, there’s plenty other ways we can go about it, you know that.” Styles chuckled, leaning to reach Lou’s shoulders with his palms, giving them a gentle squeeze.

Louis sighed, his fingers trembling for whatever reason as he looked through the million unnecessary pockets his brown leather wallet had, no matter that he not only had like three of them occupied, but also never really used the thing. “You’re too lucky, that’s what you are, Styles.” He shook his head once he found the right slot and slid a single condom out. “I don’t’ know what you would do without me.”

“How long has this been in there?” Cautiously approaching the topic of a mysterious condom, Harry caught it in between his fingers and measured carefully with his gaze, lending his second hand to the friend who used it to get off the floor.

“Not that long.” Louis could only get as specific as that, somewhere in between not wanting to come off as a slut and actual cluelessness. It couldn’t have been there longer than four months, he knew as much as that. “I’m not trying to trick you into a baby,  _ I promise _ .” Not-so-secretly, he crossed his fingers, smiling at his partner sweetly to tie the joke together.

“I guess it’s better than nothing.” A weight was taken off Lou’s shoulders when he noted that the entire ordeal of prepping was not going to waste because of his forgetfulness. “Mom would be livid though.” His lips bent in a smirk as Louis walked towards his bed and, unapologetically, shoved all the clothes to the floor. “Well… that was overdramatic.” He chuckled, but still took the space Louis left vacant for him.

“You do that? Of course you do!” Louis mocked, too vaguely for the brunette to know what he was talking about, Harry’s confused look clearly stated that he was clueless. “Yes mommy, we used a condom.” The boy continued, giving his partner a few lazy strokes to get him back to the place where he was before the whole condom debacle happened. “Yes mummy, she sucked my cock sooo well.”

“Talk about my mom more, I bet you can just feel what it does to me.” Styles murmured seductively, his softening length completely deterring Lou from more of his rather lousy comedy. Kneeling between the bottom’s spread legs, still massaged by the very boy who was waiting for him to grow to full fruition, Harry reached for the bottle of lube he brought with himself from his bedroom. “Lay down for me, yeah?”

Louis did just that, even though he, initially, might have had a slightly different idea about how the situation was going to look like. Didn’t matter that much, he could compromise. Now stroking himself leisurely, the visual of Harry jerking himself off spurring him in, he threw hungry gazes at the brunette who, at last, deemed himself hard enough and rolled the rubber onto his throbbing cock, spreading lube both on the condom and Louis’ rim, the boy’s breath hitching as he might have grown alien to the feeling with the few minutes he wasn’t touched like that.

Harry smeared the gel remaining on his hands on his lower back, knowing all too well that a shower was going to be necessary when he’s done with Louis. Smirking smugly, he lowered himself, upper body supported on left arm he anchored next to his partner’s head. He leaned in to kiss those swollen lips that in their redness, matched Lou’s cheeks perfectly. “Knock knock.”

If Styles was grinning like stupid, Louis able to bet his entire tuition that he cracked himself up with the punchline of the very joke he now initiated, he was nowhere near as enthusiastic with his friend’s dubious comedic genius. “I’m going to slap you.” He threatened. And Harry just… hung there, still smiling like an idiot, clearly refusing to move any further without getting his way. “Who is there?” The boy budged very reluctantly and that could be heard in his voice.

Clearly satisfied with as little as that, the brunette kissed his partner briefly, thrusting his pelvis so now the blunt head of his cock was resting against Lou’s rim, not yet breaching the barrier. “Jim.”

There was an exasperated sigh that clearly stated Lou’s attitude towards not only Harry’s stupid knock knock jokes that the man apparently loved, but, more than that, Harry’s stupid knock knock jokes during sex. “Jim who?” He still asked, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d have to jerk off to relieve himself.

The green eyes above Louis squinted as the man grinned at him, chuckling just barely so before he collected himself. “Jim mind if I come in?” The joke came to the conclusion, Harry laughing at himself.

The boy fought to keep his face straight, and he did, in fact, win, looking as bored as he could manage. “Well now I know why you’re single all the time.” His review of that unexpected and very much unnecessary comedic performance was…  _ unfavourable _ , to put it nicely.

But then, he didn’t get all that much time to complain, the crown of Harry’s erection slipping past the expertly loosened ring of muscles, an inch of his length following before he stopped for a moment, laying another kiss on Lou’s lips to let him take it all in, even if it wasn’t exactly necessary at the moment.

“Uuh-“ The ghost of Lou’s usual voice was faint in the silence until it broke completely, Styles’ lips muffling a moan that tore out of his partner’s chest once the first thrust of the man’s pelvis filled the bottom to the brim only to slowly draw back and repeat the same movement a few more times. “I take it all back.” Tomlinson laughed against his lover’s lips, his hands searching around the man’s back to anchor himself, resorting to his old faithful- the shoulder blades. “I’ve never heard anything funnier in my life.”

“That’s what I thought.” Styles’ lips stretched into a smile as he trailed them down, purposefully making small bruises around the teen’s collarbone, his hips not skipping a beat, the tempo increasing as he thrusted his lips fluidly, small grunts seeping through his nostrils from the pleasure. “You might as well get used to this.” That foreshadowing hasn’t exactly pleased the younger guy all too much, still thinking that the whole thing was absurd and straight-up ruining the mood, but he’d take ten more knock knock jokes if only it meant he would be serviced like he was that particular morning.

“I’ll just kill myself now then.” His eyes rolled both from the bothered act and the fact that he felt Harry’s cock just barely brushing against his prostate, the brevity of the contact and the fact that it wasn’t followed by another one, only meant that it was accidental. Not even in torture, Tomlinson would admit that perhaps he found something endearing in how absolutely horrible Harry’s jokes were, which was an interesting occurrence since he knew the man was capable of being funny, most of that rather unintentional but still.

None of them spoke after that, the attention Harry was formerly dividing between the movements of his hips and a mysterious pattern he was bruising on the boy’s skin, was now fully shifted to the fervent thrusts as he pounded into his partner, lewd slapping of their skin disturbing those borderline desperate cries of pleasure Louis couldn’t stop himself from releasing. Good, Harry thought he might die if he’s ever deprived of them.

The brunette decided to tease himself a bit, making the whines stop as he pressed his lips to Louis’, easily invading the boy’s personal space with his eager and somewhat aggressive tongue that took the lead as he now, feeling the familiar tightness in his gut, angled himself just in the way that would allow him to reach Tomlinson’s tender spot, knowing what would happen if he went in at that angle.

And oh boy, he did. An almost shocked gasp joined the mix of the sounds their naked, sweat-slicked bodies produced as he slammed his hips fervently, dead-on pressing the head of his cock into his partner’s prostate, the length withdrawing rather quickly so he could do it again, and again, and again, relentlessly abusing the bundle of nerves, each of the thrusts sending a full thunder of pleasure throughout Louis’ overheating body.

The teen felt… he didn’t really know how he felt, but now that he was in that state, he didn’t see a reason why he would ever not be in it, just didn’t make sense to him at all. He dug his fingernails into the skin of his friend’s back, his legs high on Harry’s hips, squeezing him with all his might as he panted, whined, and he was almost certain that a tear might have left his eye, but it was so overwhelming he was not certain of his own name at the moment, let alone insignificant details like that.

Louis came first, not realising that he did, only the almost painful sensitiveness carrying the news to him. Having that off his to-do-list, he let himself get distracted a bit, kissing Harry’s lips as if his life depended on it, pecking his way down the man’s neck to bring it all in for the brunette, the fervent bucking of his pelvis only indicating that he was close himself.

It must’ve been a step away from their bodies spontaneously combusting when Harry’s hips slowed down, a few stuttered thrusts as he rode the aftershocks of his orgasm before he slipped out upon seeing a slightest furrow of his partner’s eyebrows, incorrectly assuming his lover was in pain.

They both panted, Harry sitting on his sore legs as he tugged the condom off his softening length and tied it at the end, using a random receipt Louis had on his nightstand for however long to discard of the rubber temporarily.

The room felt solid hundred degrees hotter than it did when they first entered it, the open window not helping them one bit. With chests heaving without any sensible pattern, they wined down next to each other, eyes closed to shield themselves from the blinding sunbeams that shone through the window.

Remember that shower Louis took when he woke up?  _ Yeah _ … it might be a crime towards the whole water conservation thing, but he needed one not even two hours after the first one. To be fair, Harry couldn’t really blame him, not when he was the one who caused him to be all disgusting so quickly after the first one.

Louis wasn’t sure how much time they had before Frank and Ada were going to return, but with Styles teasing him as much as he did at the beginning, it couldn’t have been all that much. But then, reluctancy to get up was stronger than his will, and he stayed glued to the mattress even though he knew he probably should get up.

They were just relaxing, Lou's head lied on his partner’s chest as he circled Harry’s nipple absentmindedly, no actual thoughts in his head at the moment. Some actual substance popped up in his brain as soon as the phone that laid on Louis’ own nightstand started going off, startling the shit out of them both.

It wasn’t, of course, Tomlinson’s phone, but he could only predict that it was he who left it there after one of his late-night gaming sessions. It still was there, even if the last time it was used was solid two days ago, just an example to show how absolutely useless Harry was when it came to picking up his calls.

But he was there now, and he heard it ringing, so he could only raise to a seating position and reach for it, giving the unsaved number a confused look before he answered, putting it on his chest as he laid down and switched it to loudspeaker.

“ _ Um- hello? _ ” An unfamiliar, at least to Harry, voice broke out in the bedroom, Louis’ heart immediately going back to the increased speed once he realised whose voice it was. “ _ I am sorry, I was called from this number, but I can’t seem to recall who this is… _ ” The woman explained, and there, Styles already knew that even if the call reached  _ his  _ mobile, it was not meant for him.

_ “Isabella! _ ” Tomlinson almost screamed when he picked up the phone, sitting up when he realised he would be the one doing the talking. “ _ This is Louis, I was trying to check in with you, but you must’ve been busy with your big city business.”  _ He mocked, grinning like stupid to the black screen of the phone he held close to his mouth.

“ _ Louis. _ ” Somebody who knew Isa, like Louis for example, could easily pick up on that relief in her voice when she realised that her… friend (???), not a single word in the dictionary suitable to describe their relationship, was alive and well. “ _ You were supposed to call me ages ago! _ ” Well… scolding was not the thing he expected to get, at least not right off the bat, but he couldn’t say he hated it as much as he usually would.  _ Fuck,  _ he missed her.

_ “I knooow. _ ” The boy resorted to his staple whine, looking out of the window as he fiddled with Harry’s fingers that quickly found their way to his once they were stripped off physical contact.  _ “It’s just so busy here, and it was not exactly easy to get a phone around here. Should have gotten myself a burner, but you know that planning never was one of my strongest suits.” _

_ “Whose phone is this then? Sounds like a perfectly adequate option. _ ” Yeah… she seemed mad, rightfully so. Maybe not  _ mad  _ per se, he could hear she was glad to hear from him, but she was irritated that it took so long. Fine, he should’ve thought of contacting her earlier than on Friday.

_ “What if I told you I had to put out for it?”  _ He laughed, looking at Harry whose expression quickly shifted from a mixture of amused and intrigued to straight-up flabbergasted. There was no reaction from the other side, so he could only assume that Isabella had a similar face at the moment.  _ “I’m joking! I borrowed it from my boss. _ ” Either because of his dislike for authority or something entirely different, it was weird to even call Styles his boss, his opinion apparently shared by a man whose face distorted in a grimace upon hearing Lou’s words. “ _ I admit, I fucked up, but it only goes to show how busy I was _ .”

_ “How are you doing, baby?”  _ She slipped back to that motherly sort of demeanour that Louis liked so much because once in his life, it felt like somebody gave a shit about him. He would  _ never  _ admit to loving the way Isabella addressed him, all the babies and honeys, something he enjoyed in secret. 

_ “I’m fine, just busy. You know… farm stuff. _ ” His jaw started aching from the smile he wasn’t able to push away.  _ “I bet Long Island is as boring as ever. _ ”

“ _ It is.” _ She chuckled sweetly into the phone.  _ “That’s why it’s the best.”  _ Tomlinson could see himself arguing otherwise, but for each their own.  _ “What are you even doing around there?”  _ Isabella was clearly not interested in talking about herself.

And Louis… panicked a bit. He could only imagine that having sex with his  _ boss  _ was not exactly an answer she expected to hear, so he decided to spare her that one. But then… all he ever did was hang out with Harry.  _ “I’m… waking up way too fucking early, feeding the animals, cleaning after them…”  _ He counted the staple steps of his daily routine out for his friend to hear.  _ “When we get a free minute we ride horses or go swimming. _ ” A silent curse left his lips once he realised that he included Harry without even planning to, which only showed how much of an integral part of his farm life the man was, an echo of that awful week that they stayed away from each other only showed that it was the absolute truth.  _ “I don’t mean to brag, but soon enough, my backstroke is going to be Olympics worthy. _ ”

_ “No way!”  _ He tried to convince himself that he imagined the condescending manner in her voice.  _ “Who forced you to swim? Who is the other part to that ‘we’ you’ve mentioned?”  _ And…  _ fuck,  _ of course she picked up on that.

Louis covered the microphone and sighed, suddenly all too aware of Harry’s presence right next to him, shamelessly listening in on the conversation.  _ “It’s just my boss.”  _ The explanation was vague.  _ “I think dad pays him to babysit me or something, won’t leave me alone for a minute, I swear to god. _ ” The entire answer was all there more to fuck with Styles than anything else.

_ “Or maybe he likes you. _ ” Isabella chuckled, Harry using his freshly freed hand to draw shapes on the small of his friend’s back when Louis scratched an itch next to his knee.

_ “I don’t think.”  _ He scoffed in an answer, knowing that there was a subtext to her assumption.  _ “He’s like forty years old. I’m not desperate enough just yet.” _

_ “Is he nice to you? _ ” Her voice eased when she fell for Lou’s lie.

And  _ yes,  _ Tomlinson felt shitty for lying to her like that, but he still didn’t know how to handle the situation.  _ “He can be if he wants to.” _ Louis shrugged, chancing a peek at Harry’s puzzled face.  _ “Sometimes he’s an asshole though, so I’ll just leave him be and go hang out around horses or something.”  _

The conversation went on far longer than Louis expected it would, totalling something about half an hour. They haven’t even talked about anything incredibly interesting, just Louis’ current situation, some more lies about Harry that went straight to the boy’s conscience, a few updates he got about Isabella and her partner. He didn’t know if he hadn’t offended the woman when, at the very end of the chat, he was asked whether he missed home, his answer was obviously negative. She couldn’t have been surprised by that revelation, but he might have at least  _ tried  _ to seem like he was thinking about it for a bit. 

And then, with a promise that he was going to call her soon, and actually having to confirm that he understood that  _ soon  _ meant a week at most, the call ended, leaving Louis nostalgic, slightly uncomfortable with the awareness that Harry saw  _ that  _ side of him, and with his conscience stained with all the lies he tried to convince himself he was forced to tell.

“Oh, so we’re now pretending that I didn’t see you giving her discounts on the houses?” Harry’s voice was more pointed than Louis had ever heard it, a bizarre moment to become so hostile as they were now sat in Anne’s garden, relaxing on a Sunday afternoon with a game of Monopoly. “I’m not losing because our  _ impartial… _ ” The last word was contained in air quotation marks to give the argument more punch. “Banker decided to join in on some feminist committee and screw everybody over because of what? Our gender? That’s sexist and I am not standing for that one bit, absolutely not.” Determined to win his case, the man threw his cards onto the board, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “In fact, I am putting an official request for her to pay reparations for those affected by your bullshit conniving. I’ve paid three  _ fucking  _ times, Louis lost almost all his money and Granddad went bankrupt because of you two.”

Well… he wasn’t  _ wrong _ , though Louis thought that perhaps the determination with which he fought for justice was a bit extreme. Thinking that adding fuel to that fierce fire that consumed the brunette was the last thing he should do, he decided to keep a secret that he knew would infuriate his friend even more. Because see, he was pretty fucking sure he saw Anne smuggling additional banknotes into Gemma’s pile once or twice, but then, he was guilty of taking advantage of the banker's almost foolish trust in her companions when he noticed she wasn’t counting the money she collected from them.  _ Yeah _ , of fucking course, he was cheating, not once he had played a board game without doing that, but he wasn’t caught, and that was where he was different from Gemma.

“I don’t even have that kind of money.” The younger woman argued with her brother, nonchalantly sipping semi-sweet red from the wineglass she refilled twice ever since they finished dinner that, in the spirit of not wasting food, was just reheated leftovers from the party.

Harry’s shoulders shrugged as if he couldn’t give any less fucks about that. “I don’t know, it sort of sounds like your personal struggle. Doesn’t it, fellas?” The remaining two of the victims nodded their heads, thinking they might as well join in on the revolution since they could either gain something out of it or remain in the same situation as their current one, so there was no reason for them not to support their main representative. “Sell something and pay up or you’re done here.” He threatened as if he had any actual authority to institute such rules.

In that infuriated state, Tomlinson wouldn’t dare to argue if he was in Gemma’s shoes, and it looked like the actual culprit didn’t feel like battling her younger brother either, monetizing some of the assets she accumulated to return the money she acquired illegally, the reparations influencing Harry’s situation more than Louis’ or Albert’s, but the extra money was fine.

The cheating finished right about there, both Louis’ and Gemma’s, Harry observing his banker’s hands  _ very  _ carefully whenever she would conduct her duties. So, it has become boring rather quickly after that, Louis going bankrupt maybe twenty minutes after Harry’s outburst, the man who fought so fiercely for justice for him ended up being the one responsible for his bankruptcy, so look how the tables turned.

Soon enough it was only Harry and Gemma left in the game, and everybody could probably only imagine the bickering that went out around the garden table, the siblings battling for victory in a game of Monopoly that stretched out for at least two hours already, nowhere near the finish line, and Louis was the one responsible for that.

Excusing herself with something that she just  _ had to  _ do, which really just turned out to be doing some work in the garden, Anne shifted the banker responsibilities onto the youngest of the party, finally giving the boy something to do.

You better believe Louis started cheating right there, slipping extra money into Harry’s budget because why not, he deserved it. Then, he started swelling Gemma’s account as well, just for the sake of chaos as if the siblings’ arguments weren’t enough in themselves.

And chaos it was, especially when he was caught playing both sides, everybody turning on him while he acted clueless towards all the conniving. It was Gemma who first noticed that Harry didn’t seem to run out of funds where, with a rather unfortunate streak, he probably should have. A bold move in Lou’s opinion, considering that she was cheating as well! Then, it somehow unravelled, and Louis turned out to be the bad guy all of a sudden, he still didn’t really know how did that even happen but oh well.

When they counted their assets, it sort of looked like Harry won that one, but then, his sister was not exactly happy with that outcome. Of course, she was not. Four hefty glasses of wine in, she became more vocal, accusing Louis of giving more money to her brother because ‘they were fucking’, and  _ yeah _ , she wasn’t wrong really, but Louis wasn’t all that appreciative of her mentioning the thing he denied not even twenty-four hours ago so out in the open.

Albert’s organism seemed to be working in their favour though, sending the man to the bathroom in just the right moment for him to miss the revelation. As much as Louis was already blushing from her words, he was sure he would die if the elder was in the garden with them.

Harry didn’t say a word to that accusation, just continued neatly putting the pieces of the game into the box, not entertaining his sister’s outlandish idea with a single comment.

They really were shit at this whole thing, weren’t they?

That’s why they sort of stayed out of each other’s way for the rest of the evening, which, in reality, probably caused more harm than good. 

Soon after the game of Monopoly was finished, the weather surprised them with rain, and they were forced to go back into the house, rushing to claim their preferred sections of the lounge set before somebody else took it.

Harry, seeing Louis’ reaction to his sister’s accusation, even if it was rather light one considering that it wasn’t the first time Louis heard Gemma being so confident in that particular claim, opted out of sitting next to his friend, and laid his head in his mother’s lap instead, tucking his toes under the thighs of a boy resting on the opposite end of the couch.

Once again, they were just relaxing in front of the TV, watching  _ Fridge Wars  _ with mild interest, silently keeping each other’s company.

Louis wasn’t very keen on visiting Anne in the first place, though he didn’t let himself be so obvious about it. To be fair, it was not his friend’s mother he had a problem with, it was his sister, obviously. He didn’t have anything personal against Gemma, she seemed like a person he would get along just fine if she, in her tipsy state, didn’t tend to call him out on screwing her brother.

She was right, yes, but Tomlinson had a hard time seeing how any of this was her business. What he also knew, was that she was well aware that he lied to her, so he’d much rather stay out of her way for the rest of her visit, which seemed to be a plan completely opposite to Harry’s who, justifiably, missed his sister when she was gone, and decided to enjoy her company before she goes back to Seattle, knowing he wasn’t going to see her before Thanksgiving.

“I am so sorry.” Harry apologized the second they entered the booth of his truck after leaving Anne’s, the sun already on its way down the orange sky. “For Gemma, I mean.” He explained when his eyes stumbled on a puzzled look on Lou’s face.

The shorter one didn’t really know what he should say to that, he wasn’t really mad, neither at Harry nor his sister, so he just buckled his seatbelt and sat comfortably, waiting for Harry to start the car.

And so, he did, the two of them quickly finding themselves on the main road where they headed in an opposite direction than the one they should have taken. “You are a horrible cheater.” Harry spoke once they crossed the county line, on their way to… wherever the hell Harry was taking them, Lou had no idea.

“Well it’s not my fault you were so cocky all the time.” Tomlinson accused over the radio, hands crossed on his chest as he side-eyed his friend, mildly insulted. “You could at least pretend to be broke for once, like Gemma did.”

“Not then.” Styles’ head shook, eyes still focused on the road ahead of them. “How do you even cheat the whole game and still lose?” His low chuckle sent a jolt of irritation through Lou’s body.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Denying all the allegations, Louis stuck his eyes to the windshield, his sudden silence making him look even more guilty than initially. And they drove ahead, the farther they were, the more cars started popping up around them.

Only when, around fifteen minutes into the drive, Louis noticed bright lights at the side of the road, he joined the dots in his head, quite late considering that they were already close to parked by one of the pumps of the gas station they’ve rolled onto.

“Can you really not get them anywhere closer to home?” Louis inquired as he stood next to his friend, watching him pick up the necessities as they ventured into the convenience store to supposedly pay for the gas Harry put into his tank, but both of them knew better what brought them there in the first place.

“I could get them in town.” The brunette shrugged as they were already moving on from  _ that  _ shelf nobody wanted to linger around too much, Louis grabbing a second pack in passing because well… he knew how long the first one lasted them. “But I’d rather avoid having to explain myself when everybody, inevitably, hears about me buying condoms despite being single.” He laughed, picking a six pack of beer from the fridge, following his friend to the snack section.

“God, that has to be exhausting.” The boy groaned, standing on his tippy toes to reach a bag of Cheetos, but to no avail, lacking an inch or two in height to be able to get them. “Thank you.” He got the bag from Harry who, seeing the struggle, reached for it without a problem.

“What do you usually do when you’re alone in this kind of situation?” The amusement on Styles’ face made him extremely punchable in Lou’s eyes.

Of course, he hasn’t resorted to physical violence, not this time at least, his eyes rolled as he took a few steps to the sweet snacks territory. “I’d just ask somebody taller to help me.” He explained as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing ever. “And I’d flutter my eyelashes oh-so-sweetly.” His eyelashes gave Harry a sneak peak of the behaviour he described, even if it was not exactly the truth. He’d convince himself that he didn’t  _ really  _ need that thing, or knock it off the shelf with something else before he’d ask for assistance. If neither worked, that’s when he would bother strangers.

“I can see that working.” Styles laughed, struggling to keep all of his shopping in both hands because he,  _ of fucking course _ , deemed a basket redundant upon entering. Well… looked like he was mistaken.

Louis slipped himself in front of his friend in the non-existent line, opposing only a bit when he was pushed to the side, the other guy’s products pilling on top of his.

He felt stupid to even admit that, but  _ maybe  _ he got a bit pissed when he observed the girl who rung them up, not taking her brown eyes off Harry for a single second. Then, he felt even dumber when the clerk finally spoke. “Can I see your ID?” She asked, tossing their things into a plastic bag.

“Of course.” The older one croaked, reaching to the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet, quickly presenting his driver’s license to the girl who nodded her head once before she proceeded with the transaction.

“I guess I don’t look  _ that  _ old today, do I?” Styles laughed once they had settled themselves in the truck, Lou digging for his Snickers even before he had a chance to buckle up.

Taking the first bite off the candy bar, the teen secured his seatbelt as they were already rolling back onto the road. “Not extremely old, no.” He struggled to speak, his entire mouth stuck with nougat. “Was sort of hoping she would forget to take the money fucking you with her eyes like that.”

And Harry chuckled, once again acting as if he had no idea what it was that his friend was talking about. As endearing as this cluelessness was in Louis’ eyes formerly, he wasn’t sure he believed it. Because see… that innocent act the man adapted from the get-go, has sort of lost its credibility since they have started sleeping together, the whole of it gone after that one time Harry, in the unusual to him eagerness, sucked him off in a car on their way to the lake.

“And what now, you’re jealous?” A tease was not something Lou expected, so was the hand that Styles let wander to the passenger’s knee, letting it slide further to the inside of the boy’s thigh.

There might have been a sigh that got lost in the roaring of the engine and the radio when the palm pressed tight to Tomlinson’s crotch, the scene truly bizarre as the teen was still enjoying his candy and now, he was touched like  _ that _ . “You’re flattering yourself.” He readjusted himself in his pants once Harry’s hand was forced to change the gear. “I don’t get jealous.”

“You don’t?” A frown distorted the brunette’s face as he inquired, going straight to humming the song that was currently on the radio.

“Not really, no.” Lou’s shoulders shrugged flippantly. He wasn’t lying, he didn’t. Not once in his life, he went full-on possessive crazy girlfriend on any of the guys he ever dated.  _ Sure _ , he knew he wasn’t a fucking Ryan Gosling or whatever, but he was far from insecure enough to be  _ that  _ person. “Do you?”

And Harry sighed, taking a turn into Frank and Ada’s street. “ _ Yeah _ .” He admitted, not without a bit of reluctance to come clean about that.

“You shouldn’t.” Louis didn’t even intend to speak, his own voice surprising him as they were parking in the usual spot.

In silence, they left the car, Harry snagging the full bag from the seat. “Yeah? Why?” The question was asked while they made a stop at the front porch, knowing they couldn’t really finish this chat with people around.

So, he shrugged again, severely abusing that one reaction this particular evening. “You’re too hot to be jealous.” He declared as if it was common knowledge. Maybe it was. They walked into the house without delving any deeper in the subject.

“These are better than they should be.” Tomlinson commented on the misshaped cookies Ada bought at the church sale earlier that day. First of all… who the hell even makes raisin cookies when chocolate chips are a thing?

Harry handed his friend the two cookies he took for himself, wrapped in a napkin. “I’m not too big on sweets.” Instead, he returned to the pack of beef jerky he was getting through as they were hanging out together.

For once, they used common logic and settled for Louis’ bed instead, having snacks in place of actual food with  _ Great British Bake Off  _ playing in the background.

Louis laid almost sideways, his head on his friend’s lap, hair stroked softly while they watched the program they were streaming off some sketchy website in rather lousy quality. “Is it really worth it for you?” He asked, thumbing circles on the side of Harry’s knee, his eyes mostly closed throughout the séance.

“Is what worth it?” The brunette was clearly confused, not that he didn’t have a viable reason. After all, it was a question that brewed in the teen for quite a while now, not an outcome of any conversation they recently had.

“I mean…” Flustered, Tomlinson nuzzled his face into Styles’ thigh, only then realizing that perhaps he shouldn’t have even started that topic. “This…  _ thing _ …” Lost for words, he needed to collect himself. ”Nobody was supposed to know about this and now it’s all crumbling, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean by  _ crumbling? _ ” So maybe Louis was making this whole thing up, the confusion in Harry’s voice clearly indicating that.

“Well first your mom, now Gemma…”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“If you didn’t worry, we wouldn’t drive half an hour to buy condoms.”

“Okay, but there’s a difference between my family and some strangers.” Styles huffed a breath, perhaps a bit disappointed that he had to explain that situation to Louis. He thought it was obvious what his reasoning was, though how could he expect the boy to know if he never came clean about the whole thing? “I was in a church choir once.”

And now… Tomlinson was fully fucking clueless. this revelation, while rather amusing, made absolutely no sense at the moment. “What?!” The teen laughed, needing clarification about how and if, the timing of that confession was relevant.

“There’s a story if you let me finish.”

“I mean yeah, but I need you to tell me now how long have you been there?”

Harry’s body shook as he chuckled. “A couple of years.” He answered.

“No.” The protest was definite, Louis determined to get an answer more specific than that. “A couple of years might mean two, but might as well be ten, and for some rather disturbing reason, I don’t have a problem imagining you in church choir at seventeen.”

“Not that long, no.” Styles’ head shook as he denied the accusation. “Like two, they've expelled me out when I was eight.”

“How do you get kicked out of choir practice at eight years old?!” Admittedly, Louis’ volume might have been a bit too high, especially considering that, from what they knew, the other two residents were asleep already.

“You would know already if you'd stop interrupting me.” The small chortle that vibrated out of Harry’s throat told everything about the authenticity of his irritation. “No, you probably wouldn’t. I don’t really think I should tell you that, it was a dumb of me to start.”

And now, Louis just  _ had to  _ know what it was that was meant to be kept secret from him. He scrambled to his knees, sitting right next to where Harry was laying. “Now you  _ have to _ tell me.” The demand was further supported by the determined look on his face.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t have to tell you anything.” The argument wasn’t exactly  _ wrong _ , but it was  _ so wrong _ . “You’ll just get all angry and go on a rant.”

“I will be just as mad if you don’t tell me.” A plan of fully kicking Harry out of his bedroom for the night was already forming in Lou’s head, just in case he didn’t get what he wanted from his friend.

And the brunette sighed, deciding that putting up a fight was futile, bound to lose against Louis. “I don’t know how many ways there are to get kicked out, but kissing a boy seems to be foolproof.” Another sigh was added, only now giving Louis the idea that perhaps this was something more than a light-hearted confession about something embarrassing from the past.

“They didn’t.” He couldn’t believe it.  _ Sure _ , casual small town homophobia was a thing, there was no doubt about that, but… eight year old is a baby! “ _ No. _ ” Still insisting, Lou kept shaking his head fervently. “They did?” A sharp exhale left his nostrils once he acknowledged that Harry was not, in fact, lying to him, not that he would have any reason to.

Seeing how invested Tomlinson got already, Harry really had no heart to deny him the story, especially that he had a matter he wanted to ask Louis about as well. “Can you lay down, please?”

Louis immediately complied, knowing how pretending to be alone sometimes helped getting rough stuff off your chest. Well… it was debatable if him drawing shapes on Harry’s skin left the brunette a lot of room to imagine he was alone, but he didn’t seem to mind it.

“So… I was eight.” The story kicked off with an unnecessary recap. “And I kissed my best friend, as I already told you.” No news in this one either. “So, Sam, that was his name… he told me I was bad, but he promised he wouldn’t tell anybody if I didn’t do it again.”

“But he did.” Louis, in his nature, interrupted, fully forgetting that he wasn’t doing his friend any favours at the moment.

“ _ Yeah. _ ” The answer was more a sigh than actual words. “His uncle is a priest, and he thought he couldn’t tell that to anyone, but it was not quite like that.” Nervous, the man started twisting Lou’s hair around his index finger. “So, the guy went to our teacher with it, and it didn’t take long before everybody knew.”

This time remembering that maybe he wasn’t supposed to be speaking, Louis started grazing his fingers in straight lines over his friend’s leg, showing support to eight-year-old Harry, but sixteen years later. “So what?” He finally spoke when Harry didn’t. “They just were like, beat it fag?” The sole visual of it cracking the teen up, but he didn’t let it show.

“It was a whole thing…” He groaned into the air around them, eyes darting to the screen of his laptop only to lose interest immediately. “At first, like two days later, they pulled me out of class to talk with the counselor, and I remember sitting there for solid four hours, essentially attending some ridiculous seminar about how being gay was a sin, and I couldn’t ever kiss a boy again. I was eight, for fuck’s sake, I didn’t even know what gay meant.”

“What’d you do then?” Both interested in the rest of the story, and reluctant to hear it, getting increasingly more infuriated, Louis couldn’t help but ask. What he didn’t even know, was that this was barely a beginning.

“They kicked me out from choir, and it was just before the first communion, so I had to promise I wouldn’t ever think about another boy like that or else they wouldn’t allow me to follow through with it. So, of course, I did that, I’d say everything if it meant they wouldn’t tell mom.”

How in all of this Anne didn’t manage to get in on her son’s situation? He didn’t know, apparently nobody was keen on breaking the news to the woman who should probably be the first one informed.

“But then, my grandma heard somebody talking about it in the shop, so mom finally found out.”

“What did she do?” He  _ hoped _ , he really fucking hoped the woman did something about that.

And Harry… laughed, which must have meant there was a story to that. “She will never admit to that, but she got the counselor fired.”

“Yes Anne!” Tomlinson cheered, not disappointed by his new friend.

“And then it sort of blew over, because I was a kid, so everybody just assumed it was just a stupid kid business."

“I don’t know, it doesn’t really sound like a reaction for  _ stupid kid business _ .” Lou scoffed, more than mildly infuriated with the story.

“But then, at fifteen, I started seeing that guy from one town over, and somebody saw us fooling around, and I couldn’t really explain it with being a stupid kid.”

“Fooling around as in…?” For some reason, Lou inquired about the literally least significant part of the confession.

“I wasn’t having sex back then, we were just kissing.” Harry clarified. “So, once again, I could only promise that I wouldn’t  _ sin  _ like that, because apparently my word still had some sort of credibility. It wasn’t that easy this time though.”

“What do you mean?”

Raking spread fingers through his companion’s hair, Styles sighed exasperatedly, already done with the story even though he wasn’t even in the middle of it. “Well, we essentially became  _ those  _ people. Both Gemma and mom lost friends because of me, we actually had to drive to another church so people weren’t drilling holes in the backs of our heads the entire service. It was somewhere at the time when my grandmother started getting ill, and her neighbour would literally stop me whenever I came by and tell me that her having Alzheimer’s was God’s punishment for what I was doing.” A bitter chuckle left his gut. “And of course, I knew it was not the truth, I was fifteen, but it’s just… I told myself then that I would never put them through something like that again.” His finger traced the shape of Lou’s earlobe, Harry distracting himself. “And I am successful in that to this day.”

“They can’t possibly believe that you are a virgin at twenty-four.” All the teen could do was scoff. “Though I guess it doesn’t really work like that when you’re not restricting yourself to one… box.”

“I don’t know what they are thinking… Of course, there are people who aren’t that accepting, but we just stay out of each other’s way for the most part.” Harry groaned as he fully laid down from where he was half-sitting previously. “And if we can’t… well, you saw what happened when I went to the bar.”

And only then it clicked, and made Tomlinson actually  _ angry _ , especially that both in Ada’s reaction, or rather the lack of thereof, and the manner in which Harry admitted the situation, it didn’t seem like it was a one-time situation. “What the hell are you still doing here?” The question clearly gave away Lou’s attitude towards the revelation.

To be honest, he was rather disappointed in Anne.  _ Fine _ , he didn’t plan on having kids anywhere in his life, but if he did, and the situation was similar to the one Harry’s family was dealing with, he would pack his bags and get the hell out of that piece of shit town.

“Mom thought about leaving when the hell broke loose, but my grandma’s health started getting worse, and as much as my granddad tried to convince her that he could take care of them both, he couldn’t.” Yeah… that seemed like a good reason, at least good enough. “And then, when she passed, I was already eighteen so it was my decision to make.”

“I don’t know how you do that.” Louis was almost in awe, knowing that he wouldn’t put up with such bullshit for nearly as long as Harry has.

“You just sort of have to prioritise.”

“Prioritise what? What’s more important than you being happy?” Harry’s argument made absolutely no sense to the teen. But then, maybe he didn’t have any right to be so outraged by his friend’s statement, putting financial stability above his own happiness.

“My family, always.” There was no hesitancy in his words, and…  _ yeah _ , Tomlinson couldn’t really know how that felt like, right?

Feeling the side he was laying on getting sore from the pressure, Louis shifted his body so now he was not laying on Harry anymore, taking the empty space towards the outer edge of the mattress, making sure he doesn’t kick the laptop off.

“So what?” He pulled his friend’s attention away from the show. “You’re just going to be here, all alone for however long until there's none of your family left and can leave?”

“I don’t have to be alone.”

“As long as it’s not a guy, noted.”

“It’s not like there’s many people to date around anyway.” Harry shrugged, but Louis had an idea that he was trying to convince himself more than his companion. “I only had one girlfriend in my life.” The confession was… unexpected.

What it also was, was shocking, Louis’ face distorting in an appropriate frown as he looked at Harry from his pillow. “You’re joking.”

Harry…  _ THAT  _ guy only dated one person in his life? It couldn’t be, he didn’t buy it one bit. Back home, Louis knew some truly…  _ unconventionally  _ looking dudes with body counts surpassing his by a mile, heavily into double digits. So, with Harry being so gorgeous… it didn't make sense.

But then, Harry’s body count and the number of people he dated could easily have been two separate things, because it was really quite obvious that he fucked a guy before, there was no way he hadn’t.

“You can only imagine that  _ the gay kid  _ is not exactly the most eligible bachelor around here.” The chuckle that followed was rather ill-fitting with the bitterness of the confession.

“Now that’s just bullshit.” The younger guy protested, his voice confrontational at the very least. “As if I didn’t see heaps of these girls at church ogling you all the time.”

“They’re like sixteen.” Well…  _ yeah _ , but how does that change anything? The fact that he couldn’t exactly sleep with them didn’t negate the fact that he was desired.

“Well yeah, it still sort of counts.” Tomlinson argued, fumbling with his feet to get himself out of his socks that were now getting on his nerves, halfway rolled off already. “You’re so weird. I cannot believe you even talk to these people after what they’ve done to you.” His head shook as he gawked at his friend. “And don’t even give me that turning the other cheek bullshit.”

Harry could only laugh, clearly showing that this was exactly what he wanted to reference in his answer. “They don’t know any better, Louis.” He sighed, sitting up to take off his top, tossing it to the ground where he knew his friend’s clothes were already laying. “Like… when the whole thing happened, nobody would buy anything from Frank because they thought they would catch aids from it, so you can only imagine how clueless they are about the whole thing.”

And Louis was…  _ fuming,  _ though he might have been internally for quite a while already. “How does that make it any better?”

“That’s sort of why I keep returning here when I’m needed.” Styles fully disregarded the question, evidently not keen on getting deeper into  _ that  _ issue. “They could have gotten rid of me back then, god knows it would be easier if they did, but… they kept me, so the least I can do is return the favour.”

“And what about now?” Louis inquired, thinking that maybe, just maybe, if he plays the cards right, he would get to know what actually happened between his friend and the big boss.

“If I’ll stay?” The teen confirmed with a nod. “It’s… I don’t think I will, no.” The expression on his face clouded with the most poignant sadness that the boy has ever seen on Harry. “It just sucks because it’s not that easy to leave.”

Not seeing the way how this remark could lead to his curiosity being satisfied, Tomlinson decided to help his fate a bit. “What’s this whole thing about anyways?” He inquired, knowing it must’ve been serious since Harry was actually debating leaving the job he’s been doing for a whole decade.

“You’re being nosy again.” The brunette chuckled, amused. It sort of felt that this was the furthest they were going to get, Harry scrambling onto his knees to shut the laptop down and slide it under the very bed they were going to spend the night in. But then, after getting his pants off and discarding them in a similarly careless manner as the rest of the outfit, he laid on his back and exhaled sharply, in that  _ meaningful  _ way, however ridiculous that sounded. “I just don’t like people telling me how to live my life.” The confession was rather vague, but it still confirmed what Tomlinson already figured out from the previous little hints he got. “What I don’t like even more, is being blackmailed.”

“What?” The question was only propelled by genuine puzzlement on Louis’ side, he didn’t even mean to pry.

“Let’s just say that him telling me that I shouldn't maybe be so…” He took a pause, groaning quietly as he thought about the right word. “Myself around you... he might have told me the exact opposite.”

“Sounds about Frank.” The only comment he could think of was expelled from his body. And if Harry seemed to be rather amused by the revelation, it sort of weighed heavy on Lou’s chest. Because see… he didn’t exactly mind being some kind of accomplice to make Frank’s life a bit more difficult, especially that it came with advantages like all the cuddles and the lifechanging sex he was having on the regular, but he would rather know that this was his friend’s motivation before they went for it.

_ Hurt _ , that’s what he was, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep that secret for long, so he slid himself off the mattress and padded to the bathroom without a word of explanation, actually using the lock for once.

Having no actual reason to be in the bathroom in the first place, he resorted to brushing his teeth. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub with eyes stuck to his reflection, the dead eyes looking back at him rather distressing, he was putting perhaps too much force into the step of his nightly routine he was currently in the middle of. 

If he was asked why he was so…  _ bothered _ about the whole thing, he wouldn’t be able to give an answer, and he only knew that because it was the exact thing he was asking himself ever since he locked the door after himself. For one reason or another, he felt… dirty, the sole idea of being played like that made him want to strip first three layers of his skin with one of the hard brushes they used to groom the horses.

Taking a shower right now would be too bizarre to explain, so he pushed it to the morning, trying to get himself to look more normal with rather unimpressive result before he made his way back to the bedroom where he found Harry waiting for him. And he let himself get spooned, not willing to explain his sudden lack of taste for cuddles either, though the touch of the very hands he usually couldn’t get enough of, now was tainted by the idea he put into his own head.

In the darkness, holding Louis close, Harry was gone in a heartbeat, snoring calmly as if Louis’ head needed another part to that already exhausting cacophony preventing him from falling asleep. It was only his nosiness he could blame for that, now he knew he shouldn’t have asked, too bad it was too late for such remarks as he was lying in his bed, praying for sleep that never seemed to approach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not realize this one was so long... sorry, I guess. I am also sorry about that godawful pun, I have no idea what compelled me to write this in, but I can only hope it made y'all cringe at least half as much as it made me when I remembered about it.  
> As always, I would appreciate feedback, perhaps a comment if y'all are feeling generous. I have so much anxiety in my life right now, I could use some serotonin.  
> Okay, I'm done with self-pity. That's embarrassing. I'm logging off.  
> I hope you all are allright and well, see you in a week.


	18. Chapter 18

“ _ Don’t. _ ” A groggy objection slipped past Lou’s lips once he felt Harry’s body slipping away from him only what felt like three seconds after his own hand slammed the alarm shut. “Ten more minutes.” He wasn’t even asking… he begged for these few more minutes, despite the two of them having ‘ten more minutes’ twice already, five twenty on the clock that was snoozed for the third time.

To say that he wasn’t sleeping well… it would be as if somebody described Chernobyl as a little accident, and  _ yes _ , Louis was trying to seem smart when, in reality, he only knew about the whole thing because he watched a show everybody was watching some time before. He wasn’t sure when exactly, but the sky was already more blue than black when the heavens took pity on him and rid him of his consciousness, which gave him around two hours of rest before the alarm buzzed next to his head.

“Remember the two extra hours I won… whenever?” Half-asleep, he inquired, forcefully pulling Harry closer to himself with a hand he rested on his waist.

“I do.” The chuckle was almost offensive at five in the morning. “I also remember that you’ve traded it in for something else.”

_ Yeah,  _ he remembered that too, even though it was inconvenient at the moment. “Okay, but hear me out.” Feeling the sleepiness escaping his body, terrified to let it go, he nuzzled his face into Styles’ chest. “If we took it and split between us two… maybe the council would reconsider and reinstitute the coupon?” The desperation was pretty much palpable in his words. And if it was not, it was in the way he clung to Harry’s skin for dear life, even if that was the last thing he wanted to do when he fell asleep those two hours before.

Maybe he wasn’t all that keen on cuddles still, but he knew that this was the easiest way to get Harry to agree to his idea, to let him take a nap before he had to get up.

“Yeah…” Styles smiled against the skin of Lou’s dainty palm he now pulled to his lips just to kiss it. “Somebody hasn’t slept well, has he?” A single peck was pressed to each of the teen’s knuckles. “I really have to get up.” The revelation met with a dissatisfied groan. “You’re free to stay here as long as you like. An hour, two, even fifteen if that’s what you need.”

With a promise that he will handle everything for the two of them, Harry jumped out of bed with enthusiasm that was… borderline criminal considering the early hour, heading straight for the shower.

Left alone, far more pleased with that outcome over an additional hour of cuddles he expected, Louis couldn’t let the sleep slip away from him, chasing after it as soon as he was permitted to, the pursuit far less straining than he initially anticipated.

“Easy, boy.” Lou’s voice was still groggy from the nap that ended up lasting more than his night’s sleep as he tried to ease Icarus who, for one reason or another, seemed to be a bit distressed in his box. “Everything’s fine, it’s only me.” He reassured the stallion, grazing his hand delicately over the side of its long neck, the second one occupied with a carrot he was now feeding the animal.

It was already noon when he decided that staying any longer in bed would be a bit too much, especially that he did not expect the same treatment the next day, so he tried to be reasonable and limit himself. Quick shower and a few bites of quiche leftover from Albert’s birthday party later, he already made it out of the farmhouse, smoked out of there by a surprising and very unwelcoming presence of the man of the house.

Not particularly determined to find Harry, wherever he might have been at the moment, he headed straight for the stables, thinking that he needed some of that calming contact, especially that his relationship with the horses suffered due to the one with Harry flourishing, a sad downside to spending so much time with the brunette.

And for this negligence, he decided to apologise with a feast of carrots, apples, bananas and whatever else he could lay his hands on without going to the basement where the actual treats for horses were held, defective fruit and vegetables bought at discount prices from neighbouring farms.

Seeing that Harry hasn’t yet conducted the grooming that was due to be taken care of, he equipped the harshest brush and went on his usual business, letting his head clear of all thoughts as he stroked the white, almost intimidating in a way coat of the most royal stallion in the whole stables.

Solid two hours have passed before he made it out of the building, leaving the animals with fresh buckets of water and a whole lot of love and affection to last them till the evening, when he was planning to supply another dose while walking them to the pasture.

Having all the chores taken away from him by Harry, not that he complained about it at all, he didn’t really have all that many things to do. He knew that there was still a whole fucking heap of lumber to cut up, but he was sure as all hell not even touching the axe, especially without supervision, so that was out of the question completely.

Assuming that Harry hasn’t lied to him and he really had nothing to worry about, he stopped at the house to grab himself a bottle of water, and quickly mounted his bike, heading in the direction he knew rather well already, but still hasn’t gotten sick of the sights that particular trail provided.

And he pedalled, with surprising vehemence propelling the wheels that carried him through the woods, the shower he had mere three hours ago rendered time wasted as now, his entire body drenched in sweat, he knew he would have to take another one before he lets himself be seen by anybody.

Only when the bottle of water he took with himself ran dry, he decided to turn back, an hour into the ride. To bring some excitement to the way back, he opted for the longer route that still would carry him to the farmhouse instead of just retracing his previous movement, that would be boring.

It only become so obvious that this was what he needed, when he jumped off the bike that was, thankfully enough, there to support his body once the strain he put his lower limbs through caught up to him. Regaining stability in his step, he returned the bike to the rightful spot. It was when he saw Harry’s truck parked in its usual spot, that he realised it wasn’t there when he woke up, nor when he left for the ride.

Now everything sort of made more sense. It was a rarity that he got some alone time ever since he and Harry reconciled after that rather bizarre week that almost trashed their entire relation, but didn’t, somehow transforming it into whatever the hell it was that they were doing at the moment, Louis, after last night’s confession, more puzzled about the nature of the arrangement than he ever was before.

He didn’t necessarily mind having Styles around him at all times. More than that, he liked the constant companionship more than he would predict himself to. Now that he had some time for himself though, following rather extensive thought processes without even realising that he was so deep in thought during the ride, he could feel some sort of… relief almost, like time alone was something that his psyche needed.

Embarrassed by his sweat-drenched body, the moisture evident in his hair and the top he was wearing, he opted for the back door, even though it was the least efficient way in his case. He really wanted to spare Ada seeing him like that. Oh how considerate of him.

Thankfully enough, he managed not to stumble onto anybody at all, carefully selecting the stairs he was stepping on not to give away that he was back, the prayers to go unnoticed only tripling once he heard an unfamiliar, ringing laughter filling the entire downstairs, its source in the living room where he could also hear all the usual residents sans Frank who must’ve returned to his usual business.

He almost whined, cringing furiously when hot water collided with his already heated body. Displeased, he turned the knob as far to the cold region as it went, almost giving himself a shock with the sudden change. That was it, he might as well have crossed the gates of heaven with this shower.

All the traces of leftover irritation from the night before were sucked down the drain with the soap suds, leaving him the calmest he’s been in…  _ a while _ , that’s as specific as he could get.

Still feeling some of that heat buzzing inside of him, he opted for a pair of dark shorts and a sleeveless tee, trying to look decent without providing too much insulation to his body. With his wet hair brushed to the back, both hands in the pockets of his bottoms, he ran down the stairs, not nearly as determined to stay unnoticed this time.

_ Sure _ , he still didn’t try to be seen, none of that bullshit, his attitude towards strangers unchanged throughout this whole vacation. So, he picked the back door again, considering how wild of a success that way turned out to be previously.

Just as before, he didn’t have any pressing matters on his agenda, so, with a book under his arm and a can of cold coke in his hand, he headed towards that big armchair that stood under the roof above the newer, currently used shed for no other reason than the fact that the hosts considered the furniture too good to get rid of, but not good enough to keep in their house.

It didn’t matter, he liked to hang out there with his iPod or a book, maybe both if the mood was right. Now, sipping on his cold beverage occasionally, he stroked a spotted puppy he watched grow at least twice its initial size ever since he arrived at the farm, getting through the run-down copy of  _ The Great Gatsby,  _ a book Harry insisted he needed to read even if he saw the movie already.

The spot was perfect for that time of day, the sun could only dream of reaching him right where he was sitting, which his slightly sunburnt face tremendously appreciated.

He wasn’t exactly sure how that translated into the actual unit of time, but it took a whole chapter and then some before that pleasurable illusion of being the only person on the planet was broken, two silhouettes leaving the farmhouse were caught in the corner of his eye. 

When he didn’t need to double-look to identify Harry in the mix, that he was sure he would be able to do with as little as stomping of his big feet, his friend’s companion, presumably a girl considering the outfit, remained a mystery to him. Not for long, he could only assume, as now, the two were approaching him, still deep in conversation that carried giggles all the way to Louis.

“Time to drop the search. We thought you got fed up and made a run for it.” Harry laughed a few steps before he came to a halt near the maroon red armchair with the faux leather peeling off in more spots than it didn’t. And the girl, once again…  _ giggled _ as if she was in on a joke she couldn’t have been in on.

One second was all it took for Louis to lose all interest to even get to know the blonde, but he could only guess that was exactly why the two were bothering him in the first place, so he raised his gaze from the book, using his thumb not to lose the line in the middle of which he was interrupted.

“You all wish it was this easy to get rid of me.” Plastering the staple smile he had in his repertoire just for occasions like this one, he raised from his seat, letting the puppy take off to get back to its… puppy business, how was he to know what dogs did all the time?

Stepping into the position he was expected to take, Harry looked from Lou’s face to the blonde’s, both waiting to be introduced though Louis could only imagine that she wasn’t getting impatient because she wanted to get the whole thing over with like Tomlinson did.

Or maybe her reason was exactly the same, rather awkward to flutter your eyelashes and be oh-so-charming with another random dude around. “Amber, this is Louis. Louis, Amber.” Harry cut to the chase, the two repeated their names as if there was any confusion which of them was Louis and which Amber. Maybe Tomlinson found himself relieved that his handshake was just as lousy as the girl’s, and  _ yeah _ , she was a woman, but he was progressive and didn’t believe the blonde was, in any way inferior to him.

“Heard you’re helping Harry out for the summer, right?” She chimed in once Tomlinson perched on the armrest of the chair he recently vacated.

“Yeah, something like that.” He admitted, the corners of his lips twitching when he let his eyes wander to Harry’s smiling face. “Though I doubt the story holds up with me going missing, just slacking around.” The book he got tired of holding was tossed to the armchair, the number of the page he left at, repeated on a loop in his head so it didn’t get lost.

“Good book.” Amber commented on the novel, nodding her head in its direction as if she had Louis for an idiot. Maybe she had, who knows? 

“I can’t really take credit for picking it.” Now, he let himself smile at his brunette friend above the blonde’s head, something soothing in the smirk he got back. “What are you two up to?”

“I was just about to show Amber around the stables.” The very brunette declared, looking in the direction of said stables. “You can tag along if you want. I bet Grease would love to see you.”

And…  _ yeah _ , that enthusiasm was not shared by the girl, her expression briefly resembling one of a toddler being tricked into eating a lemon wedge. “I was there earlier. So I think I’ll pass.” His eyes almost rolled at how obvious the woman was with her attitude towards Louis. The familiarity of being seen as a burden almost made him nostalgic about home. “Icarus and Raven are a bit on the edge though, be careful around them.” The scoff that bubbled in him when  _ he  _ gave Harry advice about horses, almost made it out in the hot air around them, but not quite.

“Noted.” Styles only nodded, the smug smirk only indicating that perhaps it was not only Lou who took notice of that strange shift in usual routine. “It’s probably the storm.” The forecast was presented as if the man had any scientific grounds to base it on. “They always get anxious when there’s one brewing.”

“Thanks for warning.” The girl threw almost flippantly. “They are kind of scary, aren’t they? The black one especially.”

Seeing the window of opportunity, the teen chimed in on an instant. “I guess they could be… for  _ some  _ people.” His shoulders shrugged lightly, his demeanour so blasé, he could see Harry struggling to keep himself from laughing. But he persevered. “Raven’s a baby, but I get that he can look intimidating.” He reassured the girl, doing it only for the sake of Harry since he knew how it pissed him off when Raven was assumed to be some sort of murderous character. 

“You’re safe with me.” The brunette threw almost bored and soon enough, they were already on their way to the stables. “Don’t disappear on me again!” He threw at Louis from a few steps away, getting simple thumbs-up in response that while rather ambiguous, he read in a certain way.

“I can’t see a way how  _ this  _ is any better than just going to the store.” Louis whined, arms wrapped around a bucket Harry was now filling with cherries he was picking straight from the trees. “They’re like what? A dollar?” 

“First of all… they are not a dollar.” The mistake was corrected immediately, another handful of dark cherries rumbling against the sides of the plastic vessel. “Here they are free, and they are much better than the ones from the store anyways.” With that, the man tossed a cherry into his mouth, chewing for a second before the pit went flying somewhere to the side.

“There’s no spiders in Walmart.” The boy rolled his eyes at the sole reason why he was not exactly engaged in the actual act of picking the cherries Anne sent them to get after the dinner. The moment Harry’s guest, Amber, left the farm, they immediately left to visit Anne, even though Louis wasn’t exactly thrilled about that still. “I mean, there probably are, but I don’t see them.” 

“I’m telling mom you did no work and you’re not getting any of the pie.” A smirk on his face, Harry threatened, already tossing another handful into the bucket. “I won’t do that, but I could.”

“Yeah, you probably could.” Louis only shrugged, not all that interested in the chat. To be fair… he wasn’t even all that keen on talking at all, especially to Harry. 

_ Yeah _ , now that he was back in his company, it didn’t seem like he was all that over the last night’s issue, so he just stayed quiet for the most part. He thought he was doing quite alright with keeping Harry out of that little mood he had going on. 

Knowing himself well enough to know it was bound to blow off rather soon, he decided to push through, keeping silent company to Harry who, on the other hand, could not stop babbling about nothing at all, just… talking- about his day, then forcing Lou to talk about his. When those two topics ran out, he asked about Tomlinson’s opinion on the book he was already nearing the end of, and the vague comment the boy made was enough to send the older one on a whole rant about the novel that then just stretched from Fitzgerald through Faulkner, Hemingway, Orwell, until he somehow, Louis not exactly aware how because he might have blacked out for a second, his friend finished on  _ The Hunger Games. _

It was… convenient for him, that rant, taking the weight of carrying the conversation off his shoulders which was everything that he needed. Would you look at that… Harry was, yet again, making his life easier without even knowing he was doing that.

Soon enough, the bucket was already halfway filled, the amount deemed sufficient enough for Anne’s baking needs. With that, they were already making it out of the neighbour’s orchard, at least until they weren’t, Lou’s whole body swept under one of the cherry trees.

Mindful of the fact that pushing Harry away would be far too out of character, something that immediately would give away his mood, he let himself be kissed, his lack of enthusiasm showed with the passiveness that limited his engagement to receiving the kisses, not reciprocating most of them. “Still tired?” The brunette inquired when they already left the neighbour who let them pick cherries from his orchard in exchange for something that Styles promised his mother would drop off later, but that’s as much as Lou knew about that.

Aware that this was as good of an excuse as he was going to get, thank you very much Harry Styles, he stuck with it. “ _ Yeah. _ ” The answer was more a sigh, just to sell the act to his concerned friend.

It wasn’t that he was lying. He was feeling awfully tired even though it wasn’t all that long since he got up, but then the ride he had couldn’t have been too easy on his body, so he could only guess where his energy went. 

“Was I snoring too much?” 

“Any snoring is too much snoring.” With that, Lou’s elbow seemed to have acquired a brain of its own, nudging Harry playfully in his side. “It wasn’t you why I couldn’t sleep.” Well… he lied, only partially though. It was the truth that nothing that Harry physically did throughout the night, neither his snoring nor tossing, was the reason behind the sleepless night.

“We’re having an early bed time today then. I think we both could use it.” The screen door to Anne’s small house was opened, the two of them heading straight for the kitchen where the woman could be found most of the time. 

“Told you were going to get juice all over that top.” Gemma remarked from her spot in one of the garden chairs, off to the side where the smoke from her cigarette didn’t disturb people other than her mother who, despite it being years since the girl got tangled up in that nasty habit, still threw thunders at her whenever she caught her smoking, not that the daughter was hiding too much. “The thing is done for, sorry for your loss.”

Paying no mind to the mocking, Lou shrugged his shoulders like he couldn’t care any less about the tee he was now ruining with cherry juice that splashed over him and Harry when they were ridding the fruit of pits, the older one smarter than his friend, taking his top prior to getting involved in the activity.

It wasn’t that Tomlinson was stupid. Well… he might have been, in some areas more than in others, but him not flaunting his bare chest was not a display of such stupidity, even if it might have looked like it in the eyes of the others. 

He never was particularly ashamed of his physique, not as a child, not now. Still, he was far from  _ that  _ guy, flaunting his bare chest whenever he got the chance. With Harry being the only juxtaposition in sight, he’d much rather avoid being compared to him, not with his scrawny chest and the bit of a baby pudge he retained around his lower torso. 

So, he pitted the cherries, his fingers sore to the point where he wouldn’t have problems believing that the redness on them was blood and not the juice that was covering him in speckles from his face to the very toes of his bare feet. 

Harry was sat right opposite him, both of them leaned over a bucket with their knees touching, getting through the fruit with speed of an experienced guy, and that was probably because that was exactly who he was, an experienced guy.

If it wasn’t already something that seemed to be common knowledge for both Gemma and Anne, a result of their rather lousy attempts at staying secret about the whole arrangement they had going on, Louis’ complete indifference to Styles’ bare chest that normally he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off, could have been a rather convincing argument against the claim that they were fooling around. With that ship already sailed, he could only hope his friend wasn’t paying too much attention to his behaviour, knowing that if anything, it would sell out the fact that something was not exactly right.

If with every pit pushed out of the fruit, he should get faster, this was not the case, not at all.  _ Yes _ , maybe he was purposefully slacking, but there was nobody there to call him out on it, so he felt like he had permission to do exactly that. 

The sun was already setting, an irritatingly persistent sunbeam rendering his eyes almost useless with the squinting he was forced to do. It was really just his fault for being too lazy to move his chair since his task didn’t really involve his eyes all too much, so he tortured himself just like that, blindly tossing the pitted cherries into the bucket that was filling up rather quicker, but he was not going to pretend that Harry wasn’t the sole reason why.

It didn’t take long for them to finish, the sky yet to go fully black when another of their hangout sessions was proposed. Louis was just about to move to his spot on the living room couch when Harry excused them with some incredibly pressing chore they apparently had to do, though Tomlinson couldn’t say he was aware of the existence of it. 

He didn’t know about it because it was complete bullshit. It couldn’t have been anything more than that. Well… unless Styles considerd nearly silent hangout in Lou’s bedroom an incredibly pressing matter, because that was precisely what they were doing since the horses were taken to the pasture.

There was a movie playing in the background, a comedy that as out of their routine as it was, still hasn't managed to keep their attention for long. It was even weird to think about Lou’s attention as something more than a fantastical concept, there was none of that where the boy laid on his bed, bouncing his leg nervously as he held his eyes on the screen if only to have Harry think he’s interested in the movie to the point where he wouldn’t like to be disturbed.

Yeah, he didn’t want to be interrupted, but the film was far from the reason why. Let’s just say that the tiredness was not incredibly beneficial to his already shitty mood. Sleep is all he craved, but it sort of looked like Harry already forgot of the early night he promised his friend, so they were just lying there like that, doing nothing at all.

“I think it’s safe to say that nobody is watching this movie.” Oh, so he knew. Well… there wasn’t all that much hesitation in that claim where Louis was half asleep most of the time, his eyes more closed than opened. “Should I run you a nice bath?” His finger grazed the touchpad, and then the film was closed, so was the entire device.

In normal circumstances, Louis would groan in delight at this proposition and shake his head with so much enthusiasm, his neck would hurt for the next week. Not now though. He couldn’t be bothered with having a bath now. “Pass.” His sleepy grumbles were snuffled by the fabric of the duvet he had his entire face burrowed in. “I’d just fall asleep and drown.”

“I’m down to supervise.” The broad shoulders jumped in a shrug. Harry was sat cross-legged next to Louis, dragging his finger up and down along the line of the teen’s spine, triggering shivers that shook Lou’s body in quick succession. “Or we can just be dirty boys tonight.”

“That sounds better, yeah.” The boy curled his legs under the rest of his body, head still pressed to the mattress. “I’ll go for a shower in the morning.”

“I’ll still make sure you don’t drown.” Long fingers made it underneath the waistband of Lou’s pants, pulling them down his thighs until they stopped due to the position he was in. “Just to be safe.”

“Sure.” Something almost mocking made it into his scoff, though, hopefully, the bedding was enough to filter it out.

It was not. Harry’s fingers withdrew, so it was obvious that he caught it. “What’s with the attitude?” Almost tentatively, he reached to touch the skin where Lou’s tee rode up, drawing eights with the very tip of his index finger, barely touching his friend.

“I’m just tired.” A careless excuse was thrown at the brunette, the boy sitting up on the bed, getting rid of his top immediately.

With a furrow in his eyebrows, Styles picked up the t-shirt that was discarded to his side, and folded it as if it was not going to the laundry hamper anyway. “Are you sure?”

“ _ Yeah _ .” His answer was more of a sigh than actual words, a bit of strain audible in it as he was currently wiggling out of his bottoms, throwing them to the floor not to waste his pal’s effort since he could only guess he would fold them. “I somehow forgot how nice it is to be alone sometimes.”

“It is?” Harry inquired, puzzlement loud and clear in his face Lou watched in the mirror. “I guess it can be. Gives you time to think.”

“It does.” His demeanour contemplative as he dug himself under the sheets he already planned to change in the morning.

“What’d you think about today?” Another attempt to get to the bottom of this mood of Louis’ was made.

And  _ see _ , Louis knew what Harry was doing so there wasn’t really a mystery about his motivation. “Just like…  _ stuff. _ ” Great one, Tomlinson.

“ _ Stuff. _ ” The older man nodded his head once. “You seem awfully preoccupied.” The observation was correct, but was very uncalled for.

There was no answer coming from Louis, and that only solidified Harry’s assumption that he already knew to be true. With that, Styles scrambled off the mattress, and made a beeline for the bathroom door.

“Where are you off to?” Louis asked even though he hasn’t exactly cared about his friend’s destination, not at the moment anyway.

“Leaving you alone.” He shrugged, halfway out of the door, hand resting on the frame. “It looks like I’m bothering you, so I might as well go.”

“It’s not…” He didn’t even know what to say, because Styles wasn’t exactly wrong, though he was not entirely right either.

“It is.” Defeat manifested both in his face and words, head lower than usual, shaking with little to none enthusiasm. “It’s fine, though I wish you’d just tell me and not do all…  _ that. _ ” He closed himself off with arms he crossed on his chest, visibly uncomfortable in the conversation. There was an idea in his head to take a step forward and just leave it there, but he was not the one to shy away from confrontation. “Thought we were both adults in here, but I guess I was wrong.”

And Louis… did not see that coming. Of course, he probably should have, it’s not like Harry ever hesitated to call him out on his bullshit. Once again, he was lost for words, mouth slightly agape as he looked at Styles’ silhouette in the dim light his night lamp cast. There was no apology forcing itself on his tongue, because he was still hurt over the revelation from the night prior, if anything he felt he was he who deserved one.

“No? Goodnight then.” Sighing, Harry’s head shook once again, tilting down even more, eyes stuck to the rug that separated them. “Let’s hope you get up on a right foot tomorrow. Frankly, this is just very juvenile and not a good look for you.” And then, he was gone, both sets of doors closed on his way there.

Louis would probably worry if he wasn’t so exhausted and still upset with the brunette. So, he went to sleep, far easier than he normally would with the thought of Harry being mad at him looming over his head.

-

He had a dream that night, a nightmare more like. It was still dark when he woke up in cold sweat, a truly ridiculous effect of all the horrors he watched in his life still pumping through his veins rapidly with every thump of his heart he was sure everybody in the town could hear. The realisation of how bad he fucked up hit him when he rolled towards the window to cling to Harry, only to find the man’s usual spot vacant, never as distressingly empty as then.

It’s not like he wasn’t hurt anymore, not at all. Then, did he really have a reason to be? Not once have they called the whole thing anything more than a loose arrangement, just for fun, and it still was just that, wasn’t it? So what did it matter if Harry had some secondary motivation behind sleeping with him? 

This question as well as the others, took the rest of the sleep off Lou’s eyes at the brink of dawn, leaving him in this constant state of contemplation until the alarm snapped him out of it, no trace of the usual hesitation in his movement when he dragged his lifeless body off the bed and headed for the bathroom, claiming it before Harry, with his clock a bit behind, had a chance to.

He didn’t even see his neighbour and he was out of the farmhouse already, a protein bar in his hand to keep him alive till breakfast for which it was still a bit too early. Familiar with all the steps of Harry’s morning routine, he started ticking them off from the bottom of the list, still not exactly ready to face him even if, at night, it was all he wanted to do. So, he took care of the chickens as well as the horses, leaving cows to the brunette.

Unsure whether it was not an asshole move on his side to just take the less-straining tasks and bounce to eat, he headed to the pig house to take care of that as well, though he was late as it turned out, the two of them meeting in the middle.

When Harry was feeding the animals, Louis filled the trough with fresh water, and pooled the stale one in the very corner to loosen the mud there. Nobody said anything, not to each other, not to the animals. If the lack of any acknowledgement was worrying enough, the absence of the farmer’s chats with his animals was even more distressing.

Tomlinson still didn’t do anything about that, just went about his day. Two meals eaten in silence after, the time around each other limited to bare minimum, a coincidence brought Harry to the stables where he probably should have expected to find Louis, but didn’t, the bike Lou left not in its usual place giving him the idea that perhaps the boy was out on one of the rides he took lately.

As it turned out the second he stepped foot into the stables, the teen was very much there, having a one-sided, whispered conversation with Butterscotch whom he was in the middle of grooming.

There was no excuse Harry could use to leave, that wouldn’t make him look like an idiot, so he proceeded towards his horse’s box, unlatching it with confidence unmatching the hesitation with which Louis still approached that particular stallion, especially after he saw Raven  _ almost  _ throw Harry off his back during a nasty mood he had a few days ago.

Once again, as if they were both mute, they haven’t acknowledged each other’s existence when Styles, not a single bit phased with his horse’s previous unruly behaviour, mounted his bare back, and wielding reins in his big hands, trotted out of the stables in undisclosed direction.

The sun already started setting when he got back, yet Louis still remained there, determined to make things right between them because he knew all too well what would happen if he didn’t, and he was not very appreciative of the vision of him stuck with Frank once Styles moves back with his mother again or worse, actually quits his job there.

So, when the man returned, the frown he wore on his face the whole day somewhat eased if not fully gone, Tomlinson dared to approach, not without a trace of trepidation in his step. See, he tried to convince himself that it was Raven who caused the gentle tremble of his fingers, but it was a bunch of bullshit and he knew that.

Trying to conceal his distress even if Harry would need some supernatural powers to notice the nervous shaking of his hands, he pushed them into the pockets of his shorts and slipped into the box, as nonchalantly as he could leaning on the wooden construction.

“I was mad at you.” He declared, long since done with pussyfooting around the subject. “Maybe I still am, I don’t know.”

With the initial silence hanging around the gentle scraping of the harder brush on black stallion’s shiny coat, Lou didn’t think he would have anybody to talk to. He was just about to back out and start to cope with the thought of this being their last conversation when Harry turned to face him, the frown back when his arms crossed on his chest.

“What did I do?” His expression fully sold the idea that he was clueless as to what he could’ve done to awake his friend’s wrath.

“It’s not about what you did…” Louis sighed, fully aware how he was making himself look. “But what you’ve said.”

The puzzlement was still there in the brunette’s features, as loud as ever. “Okay.” He nodded once. “So what did I say then?”

“It’s stupid.”  _ Yeah _ , a bit late to realise that one, huh?

The hesitance in his step as he approached his friend, reassured Louis that perhaps he was not the only one nervous in all of this. Soon enough, the tips of their shoes were almost touching. “It’s only stupid if you don’t talk to me.”

And he was probably right in that. No… he was definitely right, but it still didn’t take away from the embarrassment Tomlinson felt at the sole idea of coming clean about what it was that hurt him so bad.

“I guess I don’t appreciate being told that I’m just a tool to get back at Frank, that’s all.” More resentment made it into the confession than he intended, especially that he tried to be neutral about that.

There was that twitch in Harry’s stern countenance that made it almost look like he wanted to laugh, though he composed himself rather quickly, which left enough uncertainty that Louis couldn’t take offence in it. “I’m sure that no such words have ever left my lips.” That characteristic to him stubbornness clouded his face, eyebrows drawn together in contemplation.

Louis was sure that his pal was now somewhere in the process of working through the last normal conversation they had, trying to pinpoint what it was that offended the teen so much. However, it didn’t seem like his research landed him anywhere.

“What about when you’ve told me that you only went after me because he said you couldn't?” Now he was frowning, almost furious in the face, cheeks red, eyebrows furrowed, hands balled in fists without him even realising. “I might be paraphrasing, but it doesn’t change the message.”

Harry laughed right about then, and Lou’s fingernails started pressing crescent moon shapes into the insides of his palms. Of fucking course, he was not going to punch the man, but he couldn’t claim his face wasn’t tempting him. “It does change it.” His head shook, still so awfully goddamn amused. “Quite a lot it does.”

Infuriated, Tomlinson wasn’t going to entertain the mocking with as little as a word, regretting ever trying to resolve it. Maybe he underestimated how hurt he actually was, or maybe it was Harry’s attitude that brought it all back.

“What about when I kissed you for the first time? Did Frank tell me not to do that too?”

“How am I supposed to know? I just assumed you liked hearing how absolutely fucking amazing you are.” The compliment was so loaded with venom, Lou wouldn’t have troubles to believe it physically stung his companion.

“Not exactly, no.” Yeah… he knew Harry wasn’t too keen on compliments, but he wasn’t thinking about what he was saying now. “This is not what I’ve said, Louis.” Careful not to infuriate his friend more, he insisted that he was misunderstood. “Honestly, I should be insulted that you even thought I would.”

Nope, Louis was not going to let himself be manipulated like that. With arms crossed on his chest, hands still fisted under his armpits, he waited for his pal to elaborate.

“When Frank told me this couldn’t be a thing…” An exasperated sigh was pushed out of his lungs at the mention of  _ that  _ period in their friendship. “I don’t know how to say it, it just… It was  _ a thing  _ already, wasn’t it? Maybe it wasn’t for you, I don’t know.”

Was it a thing for him? He wasn’t even sure. Fine, he was thirsting over Harry ever since he first laid his eyes on him, but something in the brunette’s demeanour sort of made it seem like he wasn’t talking about the strictly physical side of their relationship.

“But you left.” Louis reminded him as if he was able to ever forget. “So how does that make any sense?”

“It does not.” The chuckle he released was very out of place in this conversation, the two of them suddenly closer with one step the brunette took to trap his friend between the wall and his body. “I didn’t want to fuck you over only because I apparently had a thing for you. Not when I wasn’t even sure if it was mutual.” Oh  _ fuck _ , it was. “So I talked to my mom, and we both decided it wasn’t fair of me to chase this when you didn’t seem interested. And I withdrew.” His shoulders shrugged. 

“Didn’t it ever cross your mind to maybe ask what I thought about it?” There was still bitterness lingering in Lou’s words, even if his hands now somehow rested on Styles’ chest. He could claim that it was just to keep him from getting closer, but he would look like a fool if he decided to do that.

“So you could laugh in my face and call me a pedo once more?” Despite the tone of his words, he seemed rather amused.

The teen almost melted when, disregarding the palms that didn't exactly pose any serious obstacle on his way to achieve exactly that, Harry leaned in and laid a gentle kiss on his lips, just as if he wasn’t sure if he could.

“You could’ve fucked me in that goddamn chicken coup the first day and I wouldn’t hesitate once.” WHY THE HELL DID HE SAY THAT? WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HIM?

The twitches of Harry’s chuckling statue were palpable underneath his companion’s fingertips, the man still smiling when their lips met once again. “Could I, hm?” His murmur was warm on Lou’s lips, a wandering hand setting on the boy’s hip. “That would have saved us quite some time, wouldn’t it?”

“ _ Yeah. _ ” This was all Tomlinson had to give, his hands from Harry’s front, slid to the back of his neck where he could keep him close, kissing as long as he wanted to.

“Ask me next time, okay?” The question was weirdly out of place as until then, they were kissing like they’ve been devoid of each other for a week at least, not a few hours. “We both know how loud that mouth of yours is. Use it.”

And then, they laughed, and kissed some more until there was no time for them to keep going, the two of them moving on from that bit of a downtime to a chore that wasn’t something they ever had on their list, but neither could really say no to Ada when she asked them to sort out the basement, could they?

-

“I wasn’t listening, sorry.” Honestly, Louis admitted to being distracted once he registered that he was expected to speak, likely answer a question he was asked but hasn’t heard, his eyes stuck to a silhouette of a blonde man standing a few feet away from their spot, the two of them watching as a veterinarian evaluated piglets one by one, most of them done already.

“Doesn’t matter.” Harry only shrugged, his movement registered even though his friend had him out of his eyes’ reach. “Was just a dumb joke.”

“And should I be surprised?” He snarked, stifling a giggle with the palm of his hand when he felt a finger digging into his armpit, tickling him in retaliation for that remark. Somehow, he managed to keep relatively still, not exactly eager to show the stranger a few feet from them this side of their friendship. “Maybe I could do that.” His voice contemplative as he wondered with arms crossed on his chest.

“Do what?” Distracted, the brunette snapped out of whatever it was that he was doing with his phone. “Be a vet?” Eyebrows drawn together, he inquired.

_ “Yeah _ . _ ”  _ It was weird how absolutely exhausted he sounded, although it was hard not to, constantly searching for alternatives to business school, deluding himself that he was ever going to be allowed to do anything but what his father picked for him. “What a cool job to do.” Smiling fondly at the piglet that escaped the vet’s not-so-careful eye and ran towards them, he leaned to pet it.

“In some aspects probably.” Acknowledging Lou’s comment with a nod, Harry scuffed the ground beneath his feet with the sole of his shoe and took a step further, patting the excited young one with the flat of his palm. “Though I’ve seen enough to know that it’s not all as pleasant as this.” And with that, he was gone… not entirely, the few strides he took to approach the veterinarian weren’t enough to consider him absent, but still.

The lack of interest in any of the updates the guest was giving Harry about the animals, too preoccupied with the favourite piglet of his, showed that maybe he was not all that interested in becoming a veterinarian after all. Perhaps he was just desperate for  _ any  _ alternative.

For the sake of convenience, just so the doctor wouldn’t have to make the trip too often, he took a stroll around the whole farm, looking into each and every animal with the exception of Princess, who was not Frank’s to take care of. Louis only stuck around for a half of the whole thing, slowing his step as he followed two men to the cow enclosure before he slipped out of the party unnoticed.

There weren't a lot of things he could do with his free time, never was really. With that, he headed straight to the farmhouse kitchen, not having his hopes up for anything he could snack on out of boredom, just a sip of something cold to rid of the dryness in his throat. He was shit at drinking water.

Just like almost every day around this time, he found Ada there, welding a wooden spoon as she stirred something in a dutch oven set on the stove. Frank was nowhere to be seen, which was a rather welcome occurrence, though Louis didn’t know if he would rather have the head of the farm there so Harry didn’t have to take care of duties that were  _ technically  _ Frank’s to do, or sacrifice an hour or so of his friend’s time for the sake of keeping the big boss out of their hair.

“Is Harry still with Josh?” The woman inquired as soon as Louis managed to fill a glass to the brim with water from the fridge. It didn’t take long for him to join the dots on who exactly Josh was, only one person snapping into his head right away, despite the veterinarian skipping a proper introduction.

“Yeah.” He nodded once, trying not to be so obnoxiously loud while gulping his measly second glass of water for the day, not enough considering that it was five in the evening already. While he was at it, he forced another glass into himself, observing the hostess in her element. “Takes a lot longer than I expected it to.” A subtle complaint was woven into that seemingly careless remark, just means to rid of the silence.

“We do have a bit to look over, don’t we?” Louis nodded once more, this time in the stretch of Ada’s vision. “Josh is very meticulous too, a passionate one, that’s for sure. We’re lucky Harry found him.”

What… does that even mean? How do you  _ find  _ a vet? These were questions Louis both didn’t know answers to and felt stupid to ask. All this time, he thought you just call somebody and here it is, a vet. Apparently not.

“Needs more salt.” The conversation was derailed into the topic of the chili Ada was cooking for dinner, an honest critique she asked him for was voiced after he burned the roof of his mouth with a spoonful he shoved between his lips with too much enthusiasm. “Just a bit though.”

‘Just a bit’ of salt later, he approved the product of the woman’s labour and, with a minute or two of rather standard small talk, he excused himself with a lie as though he had something very important to tackle when he didn’t, his walk up the stairs perhaps a bit too rushed to keep the act realistic.

“Who’s Josh?” Louis grumbled into the silence he and Harry laid undisturbed for the bigger part of the evening, already tucked in even though the night was still rather young, especially for their standards.

He didn’t know why he asked, it was not something he intended to do, but he did just that. It must’ve been his brain subconsciously telling him to man up and ask the damn question, too tired with pondering over the same thing ever since he made himself believe that Ada implied something with her seemingly innocent words.

“Josh?” Styles seemed to be taken aback by the question, his fingers stilling where they were previously stroking the skin on the teen’s shoulder, eyes still closed when Lou dared to take a look. “The veterinarian?”

“Yeah.” He felt stupid now, perhaps the dumbest he ever felt around Harry.

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.” The confusion was voiced without any trace of uncertainty in his words.

And Louis… he scoffed, laughing at his own idiocy. “I don’t really know.” He admitted to his foolishness. “It’s just that Ada said something weird and I might have misinterpreted it.”

“What did she say?” The tips of the fingers began moving once again.

“That they were lucky  _ you found him _ .” Something surprisingly bitter in his voice, he hoped Harry didn’t notice.

“I did find him, I guess.” The two of them shook with the brunette’s shrug. “He barely charges them anything too, so I guess that’s where the whole lucky thing comes from.”

“That doesn’t really paint me in the best light, does it?” The teen sighed, nuzzling his face against the side of Harry’s ribcage. “Jealous fuck.”

He laughed again, though this one was more in hopes Harry would pick up and join him in the chuckle, to take his focus off the insult he directed at himself, one he didn’t even intend on saying out loud.

“I have my hands full with you alone.” There wasn’t really any humour in the reassurance, just as if he really wanted to make the matter clear.

“I thought you were an item in the past or something.”

“Never, no” The taller of them reached his hand to pull the duvet higher, only Lou’s head left without cover. “I thought I told you I only dated one person.”

“There’s a lot of wiggle room between dating somebody and sleeping with them, isn’t there?” His sigh was almost sad in its pensiveness, for a reason the teen couldn’t really pinpoint. “I would know.”

“I guess.” Styles shrugged again. “You have nothing to worry about though.”

The conversation could have ended around there, they could fall silent and just go to sleep. It probably should have. But it didn’t, Louis had one more matter to settle while he was already making a fool out of himself. “What’s the deal with Amber?” There really was no point in pretending to be cavalier in this whole thing, was there?

Harry’s chest fully deflated, which only gave Louis an idea that he crossed the line, pissed him off with his childish jealousy he was not even entitled to. So, he fell silent, hoping his friend won’t remember anything when they wake up the next day.

“Amber’s in the past.” The brunette sighed out as if the words were incredibly strenuous on his fatigued self. Tomlinson knew that despite Harry having all the right to be exhausted, barely getting a moment for a breather in between all the things he had to tackle, it was very unlike him to show it all off quite like this. The teen could only predict he was responsible for that display

“Is she really?” The question was not even propelled by the nosiness, he just felt there was a story there, and he liked Harry’s stories.  _ Sure, _ a whole lot of them have raised his blood pressure with the shit the man had to go through only because who he was. These stories they were exchanging throughout their time together though, whether it was him talking about his relationship with his father, or Styles laying something heavy on Louis instead, built a solid foundation to the friendship that was undeniable at this point, sex aside.

“She is.” Harry insisted, his voice low and suddenly very persuasive. “Amber,  _ Bobby’s Girl _ …” A guttural chuckle shook his silhouette at the nickname he brought up. “Or whatever other variations of her name you could have heard already…” Another sigh as if the words were difficult to struggle through his throat. “It’s over, and it’s been over for a while now.” For some reason, all Louis could hear was that he was right, and there was chemistry between the two. “I would appreciate it if you stayed off my granddad’s bandwagon. He does a great job in telling me that nothing better than her will ever happen to me.”

And…  _ oh _ . He wouldn’t have asked if he knew how insistent Albert was, his nagging apparently taking a bigger toll on Harry than he previously let it show. “I didn’t intend to.”  _ Yeah _ , he really did not. Was somebody surprised though? “That sounds rather pessimistic, doesn’t it?”

“ _ Painfully _ .” The bitterness of his tone left Louis shocked. “Maybe he’s right, who knows. I can’t say I enjoy the daily reminders of how big of a mistake I have made.”

Intrigued and slightly encouraged by the softness that wove itself back into Harry’s deep voice, Tomlinson decided to pry, knowing that he could at least give it a try as Harry was often responsible for doing the same thing. “What’d you do?”

“For once, did something for myself and didn’t follow through with the proposal.” And the softness… it wasn’t fully gone, but there was an unsettling trace of something sombre in his rasp. “Don’t look at me like that.” He scoffed, obviously noticing the outraged look he was given by the teen, the idea of this sort of commitment so early in one’s life rather outlandish in Lou’s eyes. “We were together for like… two years, more, it was pretty serious. Bought a ring already and all of that.”

See, Louis  _ tried  _ to not look so utterly scandalized by the idea of Harry having a whole ass wife at this point in his life, but it was obvious that he was falling. “What happened?”

“One day she told me she’d be going to do some missionary work in Africa.” He announced, kicking off the story that Lou already knew was coming. “And I couldn’t really tell her not to go, could I? I knew it was something she always wanted to do.”

“You didn’t want to go with her?” The teen inquired.

“To do that we would have to afford losing my income.”

“So? Long distance didn’t work?”  _ Yeah _ , he probably would already know everything if he didn’t keep interrupting, but he really couldn’t, too invested in the story once he learned that there was no grounds for his jealousy about Amber.

“We didn’t even try that. Broke up before she left.” Harry’s eyebrows pinched together as he contemplated. “It was sort of… When I learned that she’d be gone for a whole year…” It was almost pitiful how flustered he was, making Louis regret he even asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I was sad that she’d be gone. She’s still my friend, of course, I was sad. But I started doubting whether it was the right kind of sad, you know what I mean?”

There was no point in lying. “Not really, no.”

Harry chuckled, though Louis was yet to find any trace of humour in this story. “I don’t know… Her going away made me think about the future a lot more than I normally did. Only then it got to me that I was never really myself in this relationship.”

Well, there went their streak of peaceful nights without any heavy topics. Haven’t lasted all that long, never with the two of them. There wasn’t all that much he could do, so he lowered his head on Harry’s chest, making use of his fingers as he leisurely stroked the patch of hair in between the man’s nipples, just to soothe him maybe.

“There I was, trying to be this perfect boyfriend to her or whatever, because I knew everybody wanted us to work out, already getting ready for the big wedding even if I hadn’t said a word about it.” The story continued. “I was so desperate to make it work because all this praying I wouldn’t fall for a guy has finally paid off, at least that’s what I thought at the time.”

“But it was not it.” No question mark at the end of that remark, their current situation rather obviously stating that it was not.

“It wasn’t.” Styles sighed, his fingers now creeping up the nape of Lou’s neck, a shiver shaking the boy’s nude body. “I still sometimes do that, you know?” No answer coming from Louis. “Pray.”

Louis’ attitude towards this whole praying situation was no mystery at all, but he learned to be respectful of his friend’s faith, so he didn’t criticize. “It worked for now, didn’t it?”

“ _ Yeah _ .” Harry sighed out. “See, I want to think that if I happened to fall for a man, I would just pack my bags and leave this all behind, but…” Trembling of his fingers was palpable on Louis’ skin. “I don’t know if I believe in it myself.”

“I think you would.” He didn’t know, of course, he did not. It was more to reassure the brunette because it sort of sounded like he needed that. “Sorry for asking.” Only when he said that, he realised that he probably made it worse by apologizing.

“We’re fine.” The older one immediately chimed in. “It’s just that you don’t have anything to worry about. Not Josh, not Amber… I’m not much of a thrill seeker, I’m content with this.” His chuckle took away at least a bit of weight off their conversation. “I can’t say it doesn’t feel nice.”

“Jealousy?” Lou scoffed, lifting his head to check if his companion was serious. “Hardly.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m in delusion because I never really had that.”

And…  _ ouch _ . Louis felt conflicted about the whole thing. Because see, he was glad that he could boost Harry’s ego or whatever, but then, on the other hand, there was no room for jealousy in this arrangement that the two of them had, and it was rather unsettling how easy it came to both of them to acknowledge that this was exactly what they were dealing with.

He wasn’t going to think about it now, too tired to send himself off on some pointless thought processes that would only yield him a migraine, so he shut his brain off for the night, craning his neck to lay a soft kiss on Harry’s lips before he fully cuddled up to the man and let the fatigue take care of him for the night.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post today, but tbh I'm desperate for a reson not to study for a second so here you have it.  
> See y'all next week!

“Is this how pros do it?” Louis laughed, a tinge of panic spicing his words as he laid sideways on Butterscotch’s back, far from the proper position Harry so insistently taught him for weeks now.

At first, he doubted the joke was even worth it, especially that it was a rather risky one with how uptight Harry sometimes got in regards to his horses, but he still went for it, borderline delirious after the most exhausting day in his life, and if not that, second hardest for sure.

Only when Harry turned to see him balancing himself on the horse’s back, and threw a smile that could only be described as fond, he realised that the hassle of getting in this position had paid off.

“No.” Styles rounded the vowel, his lips pressed together immediately, visibly struggling to keep the smile off his face. This seemed to be all that there was in terms of reaction, the man rolling his eyes to the ceiling of the stables, moving away from the horse and his friend, whose joke was now taking a toll on him, the teen feeling himself lose balance. “That’s how idiots who want to break their necks do.” The boy heard from behind himself, not exactly able to turn to follow his pal’s silhouette. _Okay_ , that was harsh.

And then, he almost died.

 _Fine_ , he might have been exaggerating, but the moment he was literally yanked by his legs off the horse’s back, his scrawny silhouette bending in half on Harry’s shoulder, he thought he was done for. A goner.

The squeal he released from his throat involuntarily, belonged to the pig house rather to the stables the two of them were in, Lou’s legs kicking in the air, fists punching Harry’s back with fervency that could be only explained if he was in _actual_ danger, which he was not in, not at all. Neither the weight he was carrying nor the punches he was receiving seemed to phase the brunette a single bit, Styles already crossing his way to the exit in those freakishly long strides that were his default setting.

Louis gave up rather quickly, acknowledging that he was probably safer in this predicament he found himself in than he was on Butterscotch’s back, falling limp around his carrier’s shoulder, his laughter filling the space around them with sweetness.

“I hate you.” Tomlinson insisted, not a trace of anything resentful in his words as he was pretty much seated on a workbench next to the entrance, his silhouette engulfed in golden light of the evening. “You could at least pretend you couldn’t crush me in your fist if you wanted to.” An expression of a pissed off child eased itself onto his flushed face.

“Yeah, I definitely could.” The man laughed, fitting himself in between his friend’s splayed legs, hands immediately gravitating to brush the hair out of Lou’s eyes. “There’s better things I could do to you with my hands though.” A smug smirk bent his plump lips before Louis lost sight of the smile, both of their lips together mere seconds after, neither, with absolute certainty, able to decide which initiated it.

“Guys really _do_ only want one thing, I swear to god.” With pretend exasperation, Louis rolled his eyes, his act sold by the little smile that stayed glued to his face after the two of them kissed.

It spread onto Styles’ face soon, the man preoccupied with rubbing his thumbs over the teen’s flushed cheeks. “Now you’re acting like you hate it?” His eyebrow cocked up, knowing full well that in no world Louis could support a claim that he didn’t love the things these huge hands of Harry’s were capable of. Just like that, those sweet caresses were already so much. It really only showed how starved for affection he was, didn’t it? So desperate to get it, from anyone really. “You look like somebody’s been pinching your cheeks.” The brunette smiled and now he really pinched the cheeks he was previously only rubbing gently.

“Could’ve held me upside down for a bit longer.” A snarky remark made it out of his lips as he curled one of his legs to get both on one side of Harry’s. “I still have some blood left outside my head.”

“Terrible mistake.” Harry laughed, trying to recapture the boy who slipped out of his confinement, already making it deeper into the stables to actually clean Butterscotch’s hooves like he was supposed to before the questionable comedic genius kicked in and derailed the chore completely. He didn’t catch him again though, his fingers just barely brushing Lou’s waist as the boy slipped away from him.

Darkness flooding his entire bedroom, Louis laid on his bed with Harry’s laptop on a pillow he held in his lap, manufacturing only a slightly deceptive message to send to Xavier. Something in the shape of “I’m fine, I’m alive. It’s not _that_ bad and I am, most definitely, not having the best sex of my life at the moment.”, just a quick update so they wouldn’t worry about him too much, though he could hardly see most of them pulling hair in anticipation of a message.

He had earbuds in his ears, music on full volume for the sake of keeping himself out of an argument that was going on for solid three songs already, each time he popped a bud out of his ear to check, screaming was still audible in his room.

It was unusual for him to quite this consciously stay out of other people’s business. He was a nosy one, what could he say? Not this time though. Any time he had a chance to hear Harry argue with Frank, not all that many times since the brunette was a rather composed guy, and rarely let himself be with his boss one-on-one ever since their relationship went sour, that’s when Louis would break out his iPod and distract himself from whatever the hell was happening downstairs.

Whatever it was, he really hated hearing Harry yell. It’s not that he was scared of him or anything of that sort, he knew him too well to believe there was a chance he would ever again become a collateral of the situation between his friend and the big boss, but every time he heard him angry, he would get all curled up into himself and try to wait it out so he could step in and soothe Styles’ nerves if he was needed to do that.

They already had their routine somewhat settled. There were two moods Harry had after an argument. He would either need some time alone, and usually just take Raven out to have a breather, or head straight for Lou’s door to get cuddled until he could pretend that everything was fine again.

Louis didn’t really know why, but he sort of hoped it would be the latter today. Usually, he knew that this was not his fault that the two of them were fighting, but when these arguments broke out, he sometimes forgot about it. Maybe he needed reassurance a bit too. Maybe he needed it a lot, but that was not something he was ever going to admit to Harry, so he could only hope that Harry was going to be in the mood for cuddles they could both benefit from.

Would you look at that… Louis Tomlinson intimidated by an argument? That’s a new one. Let’s see how long does that last when he goes back home.

Once again, he erased everything he wrote, fourth or fifth time already and slapped the laptop closed, frustration taking over because no words seemed to be appropriate. It was funny, really. Normal Louis would contain his message in a simple, but effective 'I'm OK', but it was long since he established that Louis that arrived at the farm those few weeks ago, and Louis he was now, were two different people.

With the laptop slid under the bed so it couldn’t mock his incapability to form a cohesive sentence, Louis huffed a nice little bundle of profanity into the pillow he pressed his face to, _The Neighbourhood_ soothing his nerves as he laid in the darkness, finding himself surprisingly exhausted, not exactly justifiably since he hasn’t really done a lot that day.

A few songs have passed, alternating slow and more upbeat tracks preventing him from falling asleep, and he already lost all hope for the cuddles he anticipated probably more than it was reasonable for him to. 

He wiggled around the mattress, ruffling the bedding even more as if it was not already in shambles on the usual basis, just a consequence of sleeping with Harry who it seemed ran whole marathons over the bed when his friend was asleep. And _yeah_ , Louis was probably at fault too considering that he never made his bed, but there were two people sleeping in that one on the daily so he was only halfway guilty, not even that if he was the judge of that.

Somewhere along that streaming session, he stopped counting the songs he was going through, by the end of it fully ignoring the music that when he remembered that he was even listening to anything, was probably already redundant, no way Harry’s argument with Frank lasted quite this long.

And he was right, the suspicion confirmed once he plucked the earbuds out of his ears to check. That’s when his session ended and he fully accepted the fact that he will probably end up sleeping alone that night. 

Now he laid in silence, what a variation, right? With hands clutching the pillow he laid on, he listened in on the outside noises for any sign of Harry approaching, but he didn’t catch a thing. No… that was not true. He did hear steps, though if the lightness of them was not enough of a giveaway that it was Ada, the characteristic creak of the master bedroom door fully sold her out.

Bored out of his mind and rather exhausted, he still didn’t feel like actually heading to bed yet, so he stayed laid down, postponing his bedtime routine, delusional that he would be more enthusiastic about it later.

And then, he heard his door close, his head snapping immediately to look at who it was. For some reason, even though there really was only one person who would think of coming there, he was surprised to see Harry standing there, leaning on the door he just closed after himself. “Hey.” He croaked, fumbling with his fingers uncomfortably.

“Come here.” Tomlinson instructed, pulling himself up and patting the space next to him, Harry immediately taking the spot, letting himself be straddled by the teenager. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, using his fingers to push Harry’s hair back, tucking some of it behind his ears, rubbing his temples comfortingly. 

“Nothing to talk about.” Harry shrugged, seemingly unbothered, though Louis knew better than to believe the authenticity of that composure he so insistently wore on his face. “Go away with me, Lou.” The glimmer of hope the teen noticed in his friend’s eyes completely erased that initial unaffectedness, the brunette’s hands sliding down to rest on Lou’s hips, stabilising him as if legs the boy had hooked behind him were not enough of an anchor. “For a weekend, _please._ ” 

There was a whole heap of questions common sense told him he should ask, but that desperation in Harry’s demeanour rendered all of them rather redundant, his blood spiked with excitement as he leaned down to kiss his friend, just a handful of gentle pecks that never escalated into anything more heated than that.

“Let’s just drive until we can’t sit on our asses anymore and stay in some dingy motel. Alone for once, yeah?” There was never a smile so bright on Lou’s face than there was now, a grin giving his teeth a proper exhibition while he smoothed his thumbs over Harry’s dark eyebrows. “Forget that any of this exists…” This time the kiss was more committed than the previous ones, still entirely pure in its nature.

“Sounds perfect to me.” At last, Harry chuckled, a smirk bending his lips before he nuzzled his face in Lou’s clavicle. “Though I can see you disagreeing.”

“I’ll be ready in five.” Lou’s fingers slid up his friend’s neck, the boy grabbing two fistfuls of hair and tugging so he could look at Harry’s face again. “Are you serious? Are we doing this?” Fuck, it would be awful if it turned out that it was all a joke now… Yeah, he shouldn’t have gotten himself excited over something so unlikely. “ _Please_ can we?” Oh, how the tables have turned.

Harry laughed at the enthusiasm he would never anticipate, not from Louis. “We can if you want to.” His shoulders shrugged once, hands off his friend’s hips as the boy was now wriggling his way out of his lap. “Should I get packed now?” 

And… _yeah_. That’s how they ended up on the driveway of the third motel which sign they have stumbled upon after exiting the highway. It was little short of four hours into the drive when, after a few naps Harry kindly let him take, Louis complained about his bones aching from all the sitting. He could only imagine his friend needed a break more than he did, after all he was driving the whole time. 

At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter where they would be staying, did it? All that did was that they were going to be alone, that’s precisely what this whole thing was about, to be as far away from all that farm bullshit as possible. They were far enough.

The place they have ended up in, at least they _hoped_ they would be able to stay in, was not exactly the first image that would pop up in either’s brain upon hearing the word motel. They have passed two places more matching the description, but both of those had no rooms available at the moment, which according to Harry wasn’t all that weird since not only they were not that far from the state capital, but the trout season was in full swing which apparently had some significance as well, at least that’s what the driver claimed when he was asked about it.

Third time’s a charm? Hopefully. Not only both of them were exhausted, but the place they were now standing outside of looked rather nice… at least nicer than the other two. For once, it was not on the side of a road, which was already a big thing. The setting felt familiar in the sense that they were somewhere on a border of a forest, a constant background of his life at the farm. It was more a row of cabins rather than an _actual_ motel, one that you would see in movies, and Tomlinson could already imagine how the inside looked like.

Louis’ bones were stiff when he made it out of the truck, giving the door a tap as he silently thanked the car for making the trip without breaking. A duffle bag hung over his shoulder, he dragged his feet over the pebbles, his body dysmorphia making a cameo when he had to squeeze between two parked cars and doubted he would be able to, only to turn out he still had a lot of spare room. 

If he wasn’t half-asleep, he would have never followed Harry to the office, but at the moment, that’s exactly what he did, not really realising how redundant he was there.

The little bell above dinged as Harry pushed the door for the two of them to get inside the small office. It was dim, only light coming from a yellow lightbulb installed in a desk lamp, so Louis couldn’t exactly take in all the details of the modest room. Honestly, there weren't exactly many details to notice really. The walls were panelled with the same wood the floor was laid with, even the desk blending into a truly awful glob of brown… _rustic_ , that’s the nicest thing he could say about the interior.

The last speckle of clarity that broke through the overpowering sleepiness, made him stay by the door when Harry approached the desk and stood there for a second, tapping his foot on the floor. When nobody emerged from the back room, apparently having missed the bell that announced their arrival, he looked over his shoulder, smiling at Louis with something uncertain in his gaze until he, with an expression of a kid being up to some mischief, dinged the bell set on the front desk, still grinning as he turned to face the desk again.

At last, there she was. A clearly exhausted woman, somewhere in her forties, walked into the office with enthusiasm matching that of Louis’. 

“Good evening boys, what can I get you two?” She asked, Tomlinson almost scoffing at the term _evening_ being abused like that.

What can she get us? Well… _guess._ “Hi. We’ll take a room if you have something available.” The teen couldn’t see it, but he could hear the smile on his friend’s face. Honestly, he admired this man’s ability to stay so… polite so late at night. “Please tell me you have _anything_ , I won’t survive getting turned down again.” He chuckled, slightly overexaggerating the inconvenience of having to drive by two roadside motels only because they had no rooms left.

“Oh, yeah. We have a lot of folks coming down to fish, so I can only imagine it’s hard getting a room around.” HOW in the hell could both of them be so… _cordial_ at one thirty in the fucking morning? Lou didn’t know, but he did not share that ability… at all, borderline pissed off at how long this whole thing was taking. “You’re in luck. I think we have our last one with two singles available.” She spun on her foot and approached a drawer she pulled open, shuffling through what sounded like keys. Actual _keys_. Hello, middle ages. “Yes! Here it is.”

“Actually, one double would be nicer… queen or whatever you have really.” A thump of Harry’s bag falling to the floor broke out in the room. “The singles will do if you don’t have anything else, we’ll make do.” Louis didn’t know if he was delirious and imagined it, but he almost sounded proud, quite a brave one so far away from home. No answer was coming from the woman, only clinking of the keys. 

It didn’t take long before she returned to the desk, slapping the key in front of Harry. “It’s eighty a night. I’m going to have to see your ID, and a valid card.” Looked like Harry’s boldness backfired on them… Louis couldn’t say he was surprised.

“Of course.” Styles was already shuffling through his wallet, putting his driver’s license on the desk next to the key. “We’re just staying over the weekend, do you take cash?” The woman grumbled something Lou didn’t hear, it must’ve been confirmation since soon after, Harry already paid for their room upfront, in cash.

The conversation hasn’t flowed like it did before the concealed coming out, and soon enough, they were already making it out of the office, alone since Styles reassured that they would find their way to the room just fine.

“Well that was a success.” Louis scoffed as they were making it to the last door in the segment of cabins, one that, by the looks of it, was going to be their number eight. Their calculations were correct, the key fit and barely a few seconds later, they were already inside. “Now that’s a place to get murdered in.” He chuckled, tossing his bag to the floor next to the bed they ended up with. One full mattress, how very gay of them.

“At least it seems clean.” Harry concluded a quick tour and approached his friend, setting his palms on Lou’s hips. “This was your idea, remember.” He laughed softly, swaying his hips just a bit so the two of them moved just a bit. 

“I’m not complaining.” He really was not, what did it matter where they slept? Fine, the interior needed updating, but so did the bedrooms the two of them slept in at Frank and Ada’s, and here they were at least alone. If anything, both the outdated décor and the homophobia made it feel familiar. “I need a shower.” 

“There’s only a bath.” 

“Is it a big bath?” 

“I guess it could fit two petite guys like us.” Harry winked and immediately headed for the bathroom to run them a bath.

-

“Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to do all that without a four hour drive?” Louis asked, his eyes stuck to a huge swan that was making laps on the lake, an undeniable king of the pack the two of them were feeding bread ever since they had perched on the grass next to a water reservoir that was a part of a park they spent half of their day in.

Acknowledging that he _might_ be hungry even though he insisted he wasn’t, just to stretch their park visit a bit longer, he tore off a piece of bread they picked up and tossed it into his mouth, proceeding with feeding the birds, slightly slouched to the left where Harry sat.

“We have swans at the lake.” The brunette answered, following Lou’s lead and taking a bite out of his half of bread, concluding his piece since he was far more generous from the get-go.

Louis doubted that this answer was caused by a scattered brain of Harry’s, he had an idea that it was a deliberate omitting of the topic he did not like to talk about. Sucks to be him, it was long since Tomlinson stopped avoiding difficult conversations with Harry. “You know this is not what I meant.” He confronted his friend, letting his eyes dart to the side where he found pure evidence that Harry was, in fact, aware of the fact that this was not what the question was about, his smug smirk selling his act immediately. “You could live here, it’s not even that far from home.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” He croaked out the answer, ripping half of Lou’s bread and quickly dividing it between the birds.

And Louis was… confused. All this time he thought that his pal’s reason for staying in his hometown was his mother. Now? He didn’t know, lost in Harry’s logic. “I don’t think I understand.” There was no need for him to pretend it wasn’t the case, long past the point where he would be ashamed to admit to cluelessness.

“Don’t worry. I don’t either.” The older of the two only chuckled, straightening his legs on the grass and knocking them together to shake blood into the stiffened limbs, already planning on getting up. “We better go if you don’t want me to starve.” Giving the cue, he lifted himself off the ground, slapping his hands together to get off whatever debris he picked up from the ground. After quickly combing through his hair with spread fingers, he was already reaching his palm to help his friend off the ground, Louis not too proud to use the opportunity.

It was a good move on his side, it turned out when Harry didn’t let go of his hand when he was already upright. Louis smiled to himself, willing that smirk off his face immediately because it only showed how pathetic he was, so happy over… nothing, really.

But it was not nothing, not at all. Having to sneak around nooks and crevices of the farm, it felt so… refreshing was not exactly the word he would use, but that’s the only one his brain came up with. There was no use searching for something profound in the gesture, just a simple token of affection, like many others in the past and those yet to come. His judgement was only clouded by the fact how many people were around them, strangers that neither really cared about, but still people.

“I still want that hot dog.” Tomlinson admitted from above a box of stir fry he was almost finished with, something strangely shame-like on his face because he really shouldn’t be hungry after that heap of noodles he just now inhaled. And he wasn’t hungry, not at all, it was just nostalgic craving for something so integral to his life in New York, crappy street hot dogs that Xavier always insisted on them getting if they suffered from munchies.

“Ice cream and hot dogs?” Harry recounted two of the cravings he remembered his friend mentioning in the passing before they have settled on a Vietnamese restaurant that was part of a food hall they have stumbled upon during their search for the car that was parked… somewhere. “We still have plenty of time for that.” He smiled, scooping the last of his fried rice, chasing it with a sip of white tea he ordered. “Or are you tired?” The reaction to the yawn Tomlinson tried to stifle was instant, the boy measured with an intrusive gaze above the table.

“No, not yet.” _Yeah_ , he was. To be quite honest, he felt rather shitty ever since he woke up, but was yet to mention that to Harry who was prone to blowing stuff out of proportion. As much as it was convenient when he would get worried and let him stay in bed whenever he woke up with a bit of a mood, he wasn’t going to risk being rushed to ER for a bit of… whatever it was that he felt, he wasn’t even able to name it properly. “We were going to see the fountains.” He reminded his friend, throwing his head back to look in a general direction where the fountains were supposed to be, at least that’s what the signs indicated.

“Fountains, of course.” Harry nodded once and took the last gulp of his tea, squishing a paper cup and adding it to the pile of waste their late lunch created, getting up from their table without much delay since the deficit of sitting spaces was evident with how long it took for the two of them to find one.

“I don’t even have a penny.” The complaint in the teen’s voice made a cameo as he searched his wallet for a coin. “Will a dollar work?” _Yeah_ … his lucky dollar was the only physical money he had in the wallet most of the time. Why was it lucky? He wasn’t exactly sure. All he knew was that this exact bill was in the wallet when he received it as a gift from Isabella when apparently he had become _a man_ and carrying his money in pockets was unacceptable. From what she explained, it was for good luck, Lou assumed it was just the Italian in her or whatever, he still rarely carried the gift anyways.

Of course dollar wasn’t going to work, neither would any coin he could imagine. It was all a sham, a tourist attraction. Whoever it was that made up the whole tossing money into fountains thing was either an idiot or a genius, no other way possible in the boy’s head.

He still made his wish, like a fool tossing the quarter Harry gave him into the water, Washington sent off to join a heap of coins at the bottom of the fountain. What did he wish for? He would never tell. Isn’t that the ground rule of this whole thing? With that, he was curious what it was that his friend wished for with the penny he threw himself.

The fountain provided a great sitting spot when they finally managed to find a scrap for themselves, their ice cream already starting to melt when they perched on the construction, the impact of water slamming into the still sheet of it lining the fountain only _slightly_ making Louis want to pee.

“Can I ask you a question?” Louis broke the streak of silence between them, that with even as short as it was, felt extremely unfamiliar after a whole day of babbling about not much at all.

“And when exactly has me saying no ever steered you away from asking?” Harry’s eyebrow cocked in question as he scooped his ice cream with a piece he broke off a cone.

“Fair.” There was no use denying that this was not the truth. “I’m scared you’ll get mad at me for asking.”

“I will not.” The scoff left a bit of uncertainty in that claim. Not really, Louis didn’t think he would get mad at him.

“What was it with Frank this time?” He asked, moderately reassured, using the top of his palm to smudge off a spot of ice cream that settled on the tip of his nose when he dug into the cone perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

And… _yeah_ , he ruined it. Styles sighed softly, avoiding his companion’s gaze as he stared into the distance at a pair of dogs chasing each other around, only some of their cheery barking reaching them from the hubbub around, one thing that they most definitely weren’t going to miss back at the farm.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me everything.” With forced flippancy, Louis disregarded his question completely, not that he wasn’t curious, but Harry’s procrastination was obvious enough.

For a second or two, it seemed like he wasn’t going to speak again, his expression extremely pensive as he stared over Lou’s shoulder. “I told him I won’t be coming back next year.”

“And he… didn’t see that coming?” He didn’t mean to laugh, but that’s precisely what happened. It made him feel bad. “I’d say it’s rather nice of you to even stay till the end of the summer.”

“That he only has you to thank for.” A soft smile made it back onto Styles’ face, what a relief.

“One could argue that none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me.” That sombre note found a host in the younger guy when it vacated Harry’s voice.

“And they would be right.” The man barked out a laugh, one that died down the second he acknowledged that his cheered mood was not shared by the other guy. “Don’t do all that.” He protested the grimace on Lou’s face. “Now that I think of it, I should’ve done this ages ago.” In gesture of… something, silent support maybe, he tapped the skin just above Lou’s ankle, their rather minuscule sliver of the fountain forcing them to sit close enough for it to be possible, not that they craved distance or anything like that.

“You can leave now if you want to.” Louis sort of felt like he should say that. “Don’t feel somehow obliged to stay only because of me.”

He hated himself for asking about the reason for last night’s argument Harry had with Frank. Sure, he was already more or less aware that there really was no reason for his friend to stay at the farm, other than him of course, but somehow the awareness of that did not hit him as hard as Harry’s confirmation that this was exactly the case did.

As much as he hated the thought of being some sort of burden keeping his friend working for a guy he never really liked as much as he tried to make it seem like he did, that two-facedness not something Tomlinson would accuse Harry of before, he dreaded the idea of being stuck working for the very guy by himself.

On a normal day, his interaction with Frank was little to none, a state he enjoyed and would like to keep for the rest of his stay. Although, he really had no right to force Harry to stay only because they were fucking, right? That’s what he thought.

“It’s not like that, Louis. Not at all.” Harry felt guilty for using his words so sloppily, he even gave Louis the idea as if he was some sort of inconvenience in his life. “The fact that I’m staying, it’s just me being selfish, and frankly… A bit stupid. It has nothing to do with you.” Re-thinking his wording, he shook his head, hair bouncing for a second before it stopped. “No. It has everything to do with you, but not in a way you think it has.”

The confession felt incredibly heavy for something which meaning Tomlinson was not even entirely sure of, pieces of the puzzle not entirely sticking together, waiting to be put together when he has a bit more time to ponder over his friend’s words. Not now though, he had time for none of that. It was the two of them in a whole heap of other folks, being so… _normal_ that it felt bizarre. Louis wanted to savour it.

“That’s more like it.” Louis’ laughter rang in the motel room they found themselves in somewhere around eleven in the evening. The day was coming to an end, and neither could, in right conscience, say he wasn’t exhausted. Having fun always takes its toll, doesn’t it?

“Satisfied now?” Harry inquired, falling onto the bed with a paper plate of his own, devouring a half of his hot dog in a single bite, huffing and fanning his mouth fervently when it turned out he underestimated the abilities of the microwave that must’ve been a good decade old, at the very least.

“ _Yeah_.” The smaller guy groaned into the first bite of his second hot dog. A sloppy thing really. There’s only so much one could do in a microwave. When the hot dog Louis got himself from a stand in the park turned out to be very disappointing, to put it lightly, his whole day was ruined, wasted like those two bucks he spent on the snack.

It wasn’t even his plan, Harry putting the ingredients into their basket when they’ve wandered into Target to pick up snacks and a few things they might have forgotten to pack, justifiably considering that the packing took them maybe five minutes, if not less.

Poor chap has not paid enough attention to get pre-sliced buns, which resulted in quite a humorous display of him cutting the bread with a pocket knife he got from his grandfather not that long ago, though it would be rather easy to mistake it for a whole different thing, unrecognizable after some time put into the renovation of the object.

“Delightfully shitty.” Tomlinson marvelled, stuffing his mouth full since apparently dividing the last of his hot dog into two bites was some sort of a crime. “Just like home.” He thumbed a bit of yellow mustard from the corner of his lips and licked it off, wiping the remaining saliva into a napkin Styles has provided. Well… a piece of folded-up toilet roll because that’s how fancy of an establishment they were eating in.

“I don’t know if I should be insulted or flattered.” Harry, already done with this snack, sprawled on the mattress that was too soft for his liking. It was just the most generic, cheapest foam kind, which really shouldn’t shock him in this sort of place. The peaceful, woodland surroundings the only thing redeeming that motel, to the point where he proposed they stay the second night somewhere else, only Louis persuading him into scrapping that plan since they already paid for the night.

“Flattered, definitely.” The teen chuckled, scrambling onto Harry’s laying silhouette, straddling his hips just to lean down and press a kiss onto his lips, didn’t really matter he tasted like mustard and cheap hot dogs since they shared that. “Always flattered, you.” His whisper settled on the bottom lip he just nibbled on, uncharacteristically playful despite the fatigue.

Lou’s breath shuddered when he felt the pads of Harry’s cold fingers press into the skin on his hips, somehow managed to squeeze unnoticed under the material of the borrowed hoodie. “I should probably get going now.” He uttered, not without difficulty in the shape of rather hungry lips kissing him fervently, or rather the owner of said lips, taking advantage of his long neck, craning it so he could reach to even as little as peck his younger partner. “Or else I’m never getting into that bath.”

“Looks cosy.” Harry commented as he strode into the bathroom, his attire, or rather lack of thereof, clearly stated his intentions. “Why is it black?” Eyebrows furrowed, he leaned to slip a hand under the bubbles, agitating them until he uncovered more of the bath water, still black.

“Because I’m so manly.” Tomlinson laughed, sweeping his eyes over the candles he lit for the sake of ambiance only, trying not to think how many people those halfway burned out candles provided by the motel have seen having sex. “Look! It has glitter!” The played-up excitement that heightened the pitch of his voice spoke volumes about the amount of fucks he gave about his masculinity, only the smell of the actual bubble bar a factor that decided the purchase.

“Lovely.” The smile on Styles’ face was one of that fond variety, quickly turned mischievous when both of his palms were set on the brim of the bath.

Louis didn’t even get the chance to yell for him not to do what he very obviously was going to do, Harry already half settled in the bath, gallons of water spilling over the rim on the terracotta the clawfoot bathtub was standing on.

Desperately trying to remedy the situation, the teen unplugged the tub to let out some of the water, but the damage was already done, and he tried not to think about what the water would do if it soaked into the carpet outside the bathroom. “Why would you do that?!” His laughter was more panicked than he thought it would be. After all, what did he care? There were not many things that could make this place any worse than it already was, especially not a bit of mildew here or there. Hell, maybe they were doing future guests a favour, perhaps mould was the push the owners needed to kick off the renovation.

“You can’t just casually mention having a glittery bath, and expect me not to join in.” Forced outrage in his voice didn’t match the child-like wonder in his eyes as he played with the foam, at least the remnants of once glorious heap that, for the most part, was splashed out onto the floor. “Glitter!”

“I’m not cleaning this.” He tried to be stern, scolding his friend’s spontaneity, something that rarely made a cameo with how thought-out everything Harry ever did seemed to be. There was no way he could stop the smile that sneaked onto his face when his friend neared him, spreading all the foam he collected on his hair. “What is this? Have you broken into these white claws already?”

“Haven’t, no.” His head shook in denial, his legs hooking behind Lou’s back, bringing them closer. “Just missed you.” Pinching the teen’s cheeks with his wet palms, Harry leaned in to kiss his friend briefly, and again, and once more.

Louis didn’t know what it was, but he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy this… _unusual_ Harry. It was rare that he saw him quite this giggly and just… careless, for the lack of a better word. It was a nice change, a lovely one even. The only giveaway that he was grinning back at his friend, was his narrowed field of vision, his eyes pinched together in a smile. “Are you having a stroke?” He joked, taking a liberty of topping the bath he just drained partially with more hot water.

“Maybe.” The broad shoulders rooting the very hands that were now holding Louis’ shrugged once, the flippancy of the demeanour indicative of the fact that he _probably_ wasn’t in the midst of a stroke. “I don’t smell burnt toast though.”

“Good…” The boy mumbled, slipping one of his hands out of his friend’s grip, a glob of blue shower gel soon after sliding down the older one’s chest, spread around by confused yet very positively surprised friend.

The bath was too tight for either to sit comfortably, despite Harry’s claims that he was extremely cosy like that. Well… Louis wasn’t, so it didn’t take long before the two of them made it out, stepping into the puddle on the bathroom floor, drying themselves off with moderately soft towels.

 _Yeah_ , he said he wouldn’t, but soon after, Louis was on all fours gathering water off the floor with the help of his towel’s questionable absorbency. _Fine_ , it was just enough to dry off a human, the test they were putting the towels to was rather unfair, and Louis was not going to judge the fabric by that.

Soaking up however much water he managed, Tomlinson gave the towel to his friend, picking up the second one as Harry used his far superior arms to wring out as much water as it was possible to get rid of, that cycle continuing till most of the water was collected, solid five minutes of physical exercise needed to reach that point.

“Are you _that_ cold?” Harry asked once he left the bathroom, his eyes falling on a silhouette of a boy who, naked from the waist down, still pulled a sweatshirt over his head, all wrapped up in the patterned duvet.

Louis nodded his head in confirmation, most of his body covered by a heap of material. “Somebody went ham on the AC so those dead bodies in the walls wouldn’t smell.” He fiercely side-eyed the single unit installed under the window to his left.

“I can go to ask them to turn it down.” Harry proposed, already looking for something to put on, his current state not exactly suitable to leave in.

“Just come here.” Louis disregarded the proposition with a wave of his hand and patted the space right next to himself. His demanding tone was not all that needed, Harry never really requiring a lot of persuasion to fill the role of his friend’s personal heater. Whatever it was that made his body run a bit warmer than a normal person’s, he was now rather thankful for that anomaly, and so was Louis who didn’t take long to cling to his companion’s body, more or less willingly sharing the covers with Harry.

“How are you so cold?” Harry hissed once his feet enveloped his friend’s, rather surprised at how freezing they felt compared to his. “It’s still like seventy degrees here.” He laughs, slouching to the side to catch a remote to the TV they were yet to use. Hell, with how hysterically ancient it looked, they might never get to use it, who knew if the thing even worked.

It did, it turned out as soon as Harry turned it on, a face of forever cackling Jimmy Fallon welcoming the two in their leisure. Soon after, Styles pursued one of his favourite pastimes that was not nearly as uncharacteristic to him as Louis would like it to be. Skipping through the channels before any of them had a chance to see what was running, he made a loop of all the channels available to them.

Louis would slap him for doing that, already spotted a few things he would like to watch, or rather thinking he caught some since he wasn’t really certain whether the single frames he spotted were the actual shows he associated them with, but he didn’t. It didn’t really matter what was on TV, he didn’t care one bit. For now, he just laid on and tried to focus on something else than an outstandingly vocal lady that was, as he could only assume, getting plowed in number seven… at least he hoped it was number seven.

Styles’ fingers were a good distraction, so was the episode of _Family Feud_ he settled on, almost seamlessly jumping into the role of a contender on the show, just a thing that Harry did, one that would be annoying Louis if it was anybody else _but_ Harry. Somehow, it was sort of endearing when he did that. 

The teen lacked brain capacity to keep a cap on the moaning, the show and the answers Harry whispered under his nose with conviction matching that of the actual players Steve Harvey surveyed, that’s why he didn’t really do any of that.

It was late and his legs were hurting from all the walking, not to mention that strangely contemplative mood he slipped into for what seemed like no reason whatsoever. Harry appeared to be aware of that unexpected change of attitude letting his friend wind down on his own terms without inquiring what happened to the boy who forced him to play rock paper scissor for permission to have three out of six drinks they have picked up in Target. There was none of that urgency left in Louis, just softness and the quickest of naps he fell in and out of in quick succession, nuzzled against Styles’ chest.

Harry thought he would burst from endearment if the softness of it all didn’t clash with truly lewd performance from the room next to theirs. For a second or two, he wanted to turn the TV louder, but he chose against it, if only for the sake of not disturbing the slumber that was already making advances at Louis. 

So they laid in that mildly uncomfortable bed, Tomlinson’s breaths soft with a sudden puff here or there, warm unlike those feet that didn’t manage to adapt to room temperature. The brunette was already set on this being the endgame for his friend rather than one of however many naps he caught in the span of that one episode of _Family Feud_ , at peace with calling it a night there when a forceful knock on the door startled the teen out of his sleep.

His eyes were wide when he asked a question with them only, glancing at the door somewhat frightened only to come back to Harry’s face immediately, from the frown on the man’s face he could only guess he wasn’t the only one clueless. There was no use pretending they haven’t heard it, the see-through curtain in the window not leaving a lot of privacy, neither really cared enough to draw the proper curtains closed. 

Quickly scrambling for something to wear, a pair of sweatpants his best bet, Harry approached the door, perhaps a tad recklessly opening it, not without setting his foot so he could control it better. “Hey.” He croaked, his usual rasp even deeper from being silent for as long as it was since he spoke the last time. “Is there a problem?” The woman at the door, whom he already deemed the owner of this whole establishment, was yet to speak, measuring him carefully with her green eyes. 

“I know this is awkward, but I have just received a noise complaint from the family staying at number six, and I would appreciate you two keeping it down.” From the look on her face, Styles didn’t exactly believe she felt somehow embarrassed to come there, she should, but she didn’t. 

The furrow setting back in his eyebrows, he looked at her sternly for a second. “I’m sorry I don’t think you’ve got the right room.” As unnecessary as it was, not that he did that consciously, his whole posture straightened, arms crossed on bare chest, the two of them stuck in something in a shape of a staring contest. “Unless the complaint regarded somebody getting overexcited about _Family Feud,_ in that case I am sorry and I will try to contain myself, I get too competitive sometimes.” Lips pressed in a smile that could only be deemed vicious, he waited for the owner’s next move.

Well, at least her expression changed to something almost ashamed, key word _almost._ “ _Strange…_ ” Something pensive swept away that bit of normal human reaction. “I could’ve sworn it was here.” Her head shook just barely so, the woman unsuccessfully trying to peak above Harry’s shoulder. With almost a foot the brunette had on her, she really could only catch a sliver of her own textured ceiling. 

“Nope.” He popped the P, a smug smirk welcoming his lips for whatever reason. “Only me and Steve’s undeniable sexual magnetism.” The joke was there only for the sake of being petty, more of the very display the family in six complained about made it through the walls, the look on the woman’s face only indicative of the fact that she heard it too.

“I’ll leave you to your program then.” A nervous chuckle made it through some truly animalistic growls from the neighbouring room. “I will try to take care of it. Have a good night.” 

“ _Actually_ …” He chimed in just to keep her from walking away. “I was wondering how can I turn the AC off, it’s a bit low for us. I’ve checked the unit all over and I don’t seem to find any actual buttons.” It was late, yeah, but he hasn’t even felt bad for bothering the woman, a bit salty for being assumed to be the troublemaker, so far from the truth. 

“There’s a… um-“ The answer got stuck on its way out, the woman shaking her head once more to shuffle her scattered thoughts. “The remote should be in the bedside table, is it not there? Let me help you…” She met with resistance as her hand was already pushing on the door, rather rude if Harry was the judge of that.

“My friend’s asleep already, I’ll just check for myself. Thank you.” Half-lying, Louis partially awake when he was getting up, he remained polite, like he always did. Getting a single nod in response, he almost rolled his eyes at her silence. “Goodnight, good luck with the…” A smirk on his face, he nodded to the right, in the direction of the obvious source of the disturbance. There was no need for anything else from him, apparently the owner sharing his outlook, already headed for the door next to theirs.

Not even sorry? For what it was worth, he was sort of impressed how insistent she was in her conviction, biased towards them to the point of accusing them blindly of something they were not guilty, a tiniest bit of research needed to rule them out. Oh well, some people are like that, that’s just how the world is and there really was nothing he could do about that. What he could do for himself though, was to back out, the door quickly locked to avoid witnessing the awkward conversation the woman was bound to have with their temporary neighbours. To be honest, he didn’t even pity her.

Somehow much more aware of how exposed they were in their room, he drew the curtains closed after his quest for the AC unit remote was concluded with turning the damn thing off completely. Already kicked off the pants off his legs, he returned to his friend who seemingly back to being asleep, was far from that, using the last of his energy to pull himself up on Styles’ chest, dainty palm curled around the side of the brunette’s ribcage, fingers twitching in a simple gesture of affection.

“What a bitch.” Louis mumbled, his cheek smushed into Harry’s chest that started shaking as soon as the boy went quiet again.

“ _Yeah._ ” The man chuckled, grazing his index finger along Louis’ spine to hopefully lull him back to sleep that was interrupted by… well, _a bitch_ , as the woman was summarized by the younger of the two. That was not exactly what they were planning for the evening, soft cuddles not something they just _had to_ pick up an emergency bottle of lube for after forgetting to pack the one in Lou’s bedside table, but somehow Harry couldn’t even force himself to be disappointed. The excitement brought by the day spent together was still pumping through his veins, preventing him from falling asleep, giving a perfect opportunity to be a creep and listen in on every breath that brushed his chest, every twitch of those eyelashes he observed with manic determination, the pair of thin lips trembling against his skin as the boy he shared this moment with mumbled gibberish in his sleep, something that he did more frequently than Harry would ever let him think he did.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading a bit early because I have to study and would probably forget to post it later.  
> Big thanks to everybody who comments. I don't always respond, but I do see y'all and it means a lot :)  
> Enjoy the chapter and see you later!

“You should have told me you weren’t feeling well.” An accusatory note wove itself in words Harry threw as soon as he made it back into their motel room, a bag of mysterious stuff brought from the quick trip to the city he took as soon as Louis was dropped off. “We would’ve just stayed here or went home.” 

Louis felt as if he was being scolded for being naughty when, in reality, he only kept his poor mood from Harry, only for the sake of  _ not  _ staying in their motel room, or, even worse, actually driving back sooner than it was planned. “That’s precisely why I didn’t say anything.” He scoffed, not really concealing his reluctance to return to their usual routine with a cheery attitude. “I’m fine, you’re making a fuss over nothing.”

Yeah… he couldn’t exactly support this claim at all. With the borderline green tint to his complexion he noticed in the mirror and the pained expression on his face whenever Harry would take a turn when they were returning to the motel, there really was no way to sell the story that he was  _ fine. _

Because he was not. He couldn’t really tell what it was or what caused it, but an elevated version of the same nauseous feeling from the day before woke up with him, only growing in force throughout the day. They managed to get through a feast in IHOP, one that probably was the reason why he’s gotten worse, and like a quarter of a movie they decided to see in the cinema.

From the very start of the film, after solid half an hour of ads, he felt like utter shit, squirming in his seat like a hyperactive kid, no position comfortable enough because if he could, he would just lay on the floor and die, that’s how bad it was.

Or maybe he was being dramatic, after all he was not  _ actually  _ dying, was he? It was just a bit of tummy ache and tiredness, his body not appreciating the six in the morning wake up call instigated by all the nausea. Sure, it’s not like he got up at six, he wasn’t an idiot, but laying down and getting frustrated with each snore rumbling through the walls from the room next to theirs could hardly be deemed a rest.

It wasn’t a surprise that Harry didn’t let him belittle the whole thing and proceed with the plan they had for the day… although there was no plan at all, the two of them winging it for the entirety of this trip, so sudden neither had time to make up a schedule. He still looked strangely excited, the grin on his face unmatching the frown he left with, the brunette sat cross-legged on the mattress, a plastic bag between his knees.

“I brought goodies.” Styles declared, incredibly proud of himself as it appeared. Tearing the knotted bag open, he fished two boxes that didn’t really leave a whole lot of mystery regarding the contents. 

“I don’t think I’m in a shape to eat anything right now.” Louis immediately protested, trying to deny his lunch, his contracting stomach not agreeing with his decision. 

“You can’t  _ not eat _ .”  _ Yeah…  _ it was dumb of Louis to even think he would be allowed to skip the meal. “It’s just soup and a salad.” Two paper containers were set on the wobbly mattress, a risky move on Styles’ side. “I figured we could both use something light after those pancakes.” He smiled, setting the same set of boxes closer to himself, tossing plastic utensils wrapped in napkins to the side. “Fluffy socks.” The deepening grin only indicated that this was the very thing he was so excited about, quickly getting rid of the packaging, even quicker pulling his friend by his ankle to slip the socks on his feet, knocking a container in the process, thankfully one filled with a salad. 

“I’m not dying, you know?” His voice was distorted from trying to sound stern and serious despite laughing, those not exactly going together, yeah? Still, he rolled his eyes at Harry and pulled himself up on the bed, a set of  _ very  _ fluffy socks on his cold feet. “What else have you brought?” 

“Tea for your tummy.” A box was thrown on the ruffled bedding. “Mom said it should help.”

For a second or two, Lou wanted to ask if Harry  _ really  _ called his mother, but then, he decided against it, already knowing the answer to that question. Hell, it was stupid of him to even think that he wouldn’t. 

“Snacks for when you feel better.” A few colourful bags joined the rest of that care package. “And some bath stuff so you can relax and forget about everything.” A proper pampering set concluded Harry’s little haul, the man incredibly proud of himself as it looked.

“You forgot one thing.” The whine was joined by a forced pout to make the act more believable, deep down the teen all but sad, too endeared by this care package he received for no reason whatsoever.

Harry seemed to be mortified, eyes wide, face pale as he stared at his friend, waiting to hear what essential has his scattered mind forget. 

“You didn’t get my tampons.” His head shook slowly, disappointment on his face for a second or two before he reached for a container with soup and popped the lid off it, not even reaching for a spoon as he sipped the warm cream, hoping he wouldn’t make things worse by obeying his starved organism.

“What the hell even is  _ zaxes _ ?!” If he was mildly irritated from the start of the activity, now he was fuming, stabbing the salad with his fork as he gave the scoresheet another look. If he was told literal steam was blowing from his ears, he wouldn’t have a problem believing.

Most of that nurturing front gone, Harry looked smugly at the board separating two of them, not much of an obstacle if Louis wanted to throw himself at his friend and strangle him with his bare hands, something in his expression indicating that perhaps he might have been considering doing that once or twice. “Plural of zax.” He explained matter-of-factly, not clearing his friend’s doubts at all. “It’s a tool, for roofing.” 

Louis only sighed, already done with the game of scrabble they have found in a place that, according to the label, was an “activity corner”, except that it was no corner at all, a measly cabinet a bit to the left of a truly disgusting barbeque set under a roofed patio that despite being a communal area, was yet to be seen occupied by somebody but two of them.

He wasn’t even going to check whether it was an actual word or not, something in the utmost conviction with which Harry explained the word giving him an idea that it was, in fact, a thing. It was his own damn fault, he guessed, at his age he probably should already know the names of some tools, not to mention that he should probably know how to use the basic ones. Oh well…

“Should’ve known you’re one of those reading the dictionary for the sole purpose of making your Scrabble contenders feel stupid.” The teen grumbled, crunching on a piece of bell pepper he fished from the salad. 

Thankfully enough, he didn’t have to convince his friend all that long that fresh air was something that he needed, Harry, at first reluctant to leave their room at all, proposed the patio as an option he could get behind, outside, but not  _ too  _ outside. That’s how they ended up just there, playing Scrabble by a weathered picnic table, sheltered from the slightest of drizzles by a roof above their heads.

“I don’t think you should feel stupid.” The brunette observed with a groove in between his eyebrows. “There’s a lot of things I don’t know about either, it just happens that I work with tools.” His shoulders shrugged, Louis blinking at him lazily, most of his silhouette hidden under a fairly comfortable blanket they let themselves borrow from their room, not sure whether they weren’t going to get in trouble for that, considering the owner’s attitude towards them, Lou expected to be yelled at rather soon. 

“This is  _ very  _ unnecessary.” The protest was groggy and rather weak, that manner only showing that perhaps Louis was not as opposed to the whole endeavour as he posed to be from the moment Harry joined him in the bathroom.

It was dim around them, a lone candle Louis might have stollen from the motel flickered on the counter, some light seeping from one of the bedrooms the bathroom belonged to. Nothing was disturbing the conversations the two of them were having, mostly though Harry telling stories of his life that despite lacklustre, one-syllable reactions he was getting, interested Louis so much, he felt guilty for being this shitty at listening, wishing he could squeeze something more out of himself, but he really couldn’t, he tried.

As soon as the drive back started, that’s when exhaustion punched Louis right in his mug, sending him on a quest to catch a nap, one that he did not end up fulfilling, almost painfully conscious throughout the whole five hours they were on the road; Harry’s silence, something the man settled on not to disturb his friend’s advances at slumber, not helping one bit.

Maybe it was familiarity of the place that he didn’t particularly like at all that soothed him the second he entered the farmhouse, enough for him to hover somewhere between sleep and consciousness, his steps resembling those of astronauts in movies as he made it to the bathroom to take a bath he was promised by his friend a long time ago. 

When they were discussing said bath, Tomlinson was not aware that Harry  _ giving  _ him one was not only a figure of speech, only Styles kneeling on a mat covering the seafoam green tiles as soon as Louis settled in the bath making the matter clear. 

As much as it was sweet of him to be so… caring, way too concerned with his friend’s wellbeing than their relationship would allow, it also felt humiliating in a way Louis couldn’t explain. Because see, the way that loofah included in the care package was dragged over his body, was not far from the way they were lathering each other on more than one occasion, but it still felt unsettling to be treated like he was dying, not having a slight stomach issue.

He would much rather throw up whatever it was that made him feel like that, and get the whole debacle over with. Sure, the actual act of throwing up was not something he was looking forward to on an usual day, but now, it was all he dreamed of, feeling like he might puke for the majority of his day, but never quite close enough to following through with it. 

There was not much he could do in this situation, so he submitted to Harry’s will, not strong enough to combat with nurse Styles that insisted he would take care of Lou’s bedtime. It felt nice too, weird, but nice on some level the boy didn’t feel like exploring at the moment.

“So this is the story how my mom had to drive two hours to pick me up from a  _ sleepover  _ because I have smoked myself into a panic attack.” Disregarding his friend’s protest, Harry concluded another one of his stories, one he left for last only because he sort of expected at least some snarky enthusiasm in regards to that one, not much of that given to him which only showed that the cause of Lou’s fussiness was just as serious as assumed, if not more.

“What traumatic event has made you so boring then?” His voice fuzzy with sleep that already started easing itself on him, Louis asked, smiling fondly at the friend who was grazing his collarbones with foamy loofah. “I sort of assumed you’ve always been like that.”

“We all have to grow up sometimes.” Harry only shrugged. “One of those days it will happen to you to.” He winked playfully, teasing his companion whose expression did not scream amused. “You just called me boring!” For once, he refused to be blackmailed by Louis’ charm. “You’re not drinking your tea.” 

And  _ of course,  _ Louis wasn’t drinking the damn tea, because it was disgusting, especially now that Harry refused to stir any sugar into it. So the mug just stood next to the shampoo bottle, not steaming anymore which took away the excuse that it was too hot. He reached for it at last, the ceramic warm to the touch, pleasant on his chilly hands.

It was only a cruel twist of fate that this little thing that ruined their second day in Minneapolis, collided with a sudden temperature drop, one that he would love normally, but now it only meant he was cold all the time.

“Good.” The brunette approved the sip Louis took, still dragging the loofah over Lou’s chest even if it wasn’t needed anymore. It just felt nice, soft, and he couldn’t imagine how this could’ve been unpleasant for his friend. “You tell me a story now.”

“I don’t have good stories.” 

“And in what world is a story about my mates almost starting a forest fire any good?” His head propped on the rim of the bathtub, Harry fully abandoned the loofah, now using his fingers to gently caress his companion’s skin.

“I liked the part when you got your ass whooped by your grandma.” So he was listening, Harry was glad to hear that. He laughed because of course, Louis liked the part about his suffering. Not really  _ suffering _ at all, he still believed he deserved that if only for enabling his school friend’s endeavours with a box of matches one of them swiped from their elders. 

“I knew you would liven up if I mentioned spanking.” Once more, he chuckled. “I do know my audience.” Almost proud in the face, he reached his hand to brush Lou’s wet hair away from his face. “Tell me about Isabella.” He settled for a topic that he wanted to explore ever since he witnessed a conversation between Louis and the woman, interested who it was that he had such a close relationship with since the name hasn’t made a cameo when Tomlinson was led him through all the pieces in his rather moderate friend group.

“What about her?” The question made no sense whatsoever, Louis knew that. He was just… brain dead, really. “I don’t know what’s there to say.” 

“Who even is she?” Styles inquired, his eyes sleepy as he watch his friend’s face. “I’m going to interview you if you don’t want to talk.”

“I can do a little interview, yeah.” His head nodded once, neck barely strong enough to support the weight of it. “She’s a good friend of mine.” 

The furrow in between his eyebrows, Harry took a second to examine his friend’s expression. “I don’t remember you mentioning her… ever.”

“Because I didn’t.” The sigh that left his nostrils was  _ almost  _ irritated, but there was something else in it too. “She’s like forty, I didn’t want you to think I’m lame.” YES, he felt just as dumb as he should have. It was just old Louis making a cameo on this one. “Don’t look at me like that, I know it was stupid.”

Feeling a dull ache in his bottom half, Harry stood up, reaching his hands for Louis’, aiding him out of the bathtub, much to discontent of the boy who did not enjoy being treated like an old lady. He eased into it just fine though, not hating being helped with the chore of drying himself off, the single biggest sweatshirt Harry owned slipped on his body, more like a dress on the teen.

“She kind of was my mom for a few years.” The story kicked off when Louis settled in his bed, curled into himself while Harry was rummaging through the goodies included in the ready-made care package he picked up for his friend. “Step-mom I guess. She was supposed to marry my dad a few years back.” 

“But she didn’t?” The tale was interrupted shortly after it started, Harry spinning a bottle of nail polish in between his fingers, the size of his hands making the thing look like a miniature. “I think it’s your colour.” He presented the polish, the shade of it something between grey and baby blue.

“She didn’t, no. Thank god.” His hand was already on his friend’s knee, the teen knew that he was going to budge sooner or later, so he chose not to waste his energy, especially that his nails were going to get painted one way or another. “They broke up like two years ago I think. Dad doesn’t love that we’re still in contact.”

“And that’s not the reason why you’re in contact, right?” Suspicion evident on Harry’s face as he used his teeth to rip through packaging of a face mask he found in the bundle. “Lay down.” 

He needed to do one more thing before he followed the instructions. He busied himself with skipping a song from his own playlist that Harry insisted on putting on for the sake of atmosphere, one that he probably should have deleted years ago just like the person that tainted the song for him. And then, he laid down, submitting to all of Styles’ twisted pampering perversions. 

“Of course not.” The scoff was insulted, just like he intended. The sound that followed was something in a shape of a purr, a reaction to the blanket being pulled higher onto his body, a hiss next in reaction to a cold, wet rag Harry placed on his face, the least pleasurable part of the evening, the nausea included. “She’s the best person I know.” Oh, how very sappy of him. He wasn’t lying though. 

“That’s cute.” Whether he was regarding the confession or the varnish he just started painting onto Lou’s nails, the teen did not know. “So you’re just besties now?”

“Don’t mock me.” Lou protested the playful note in his friend’s voice. “She helped me figure a lot of shit out. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her.”

Suddenly, the conversation was avalanched in a weight of sincerity neither expected to witness on the chill evening they were supposed to have.

“I’m not mocking you. Ah-“ A grimace entered Harry’s face when his hand slipped and the already sloppy manicure was ruined by a flooded cuticle. “I fucked up.”

“Doesn’t matter.” It really didn’t.

“I’ll go to mom’s tomorrow, she has the… stuff to take it off.” Now even more focused, Harry continued painting away, his shaky hand not something that would grant him great career in that particular field. “It’s good you have somebody like that in your life.” His lips pressed in a caricature of a smile. “Especially with your dad and all…”

They never  _ really  _ spoke about Louis’ dad, not in depth anyways, so Harry’s opinion was based on not that much evidence at all. Still, he had no reason not to believe his friend’s words, so he went with the evil father narrative.

Louis didn’t know why he kept those things to himself. Only when Harry asked him about Isabella, he realized that part of his life had stayed secret as well, not that much reason behind that either. He wouldn’t feel nearly as shitty if it wasn’t for the brunette being an open book, sharing the deepest of his thoughts, the most humiliating stories, often leading to tears welling in both of theirs eyes, whether from actual sadness or laughing too hard.

He’s always been like this, he guessed. Closed off. It took a while to get him to open up, so much that even Xavier, a guy he knew for over a decade already, wasn’t aware of some of those things he shared with Harry.

It wasn’t even that he felt like he was obliged to tell him something in exchange for the revelations that were laid on him. At first, maybe that was the case. Not anymore though. He liked the feeling of getting things he carried for months, years even, off his chest, that relationship he had with Harry almost completely stripping him off the shame that would have stopped him if he was going to vent to somebody he had around at all times.

Because see… as terrifying as this thought was, they only had a few weeks left till Louis gets sent back to New York and they never see each other again.  _ Just like they never met _ , as Harry described it when they first agreed to pursue this almost magnetic pull they had towards each other, mostly physical, at least back then… Louis wasn’t sure if the story held up to this moment.

It wasn’t long after they have started exploring this whole thing that he started thinking that something in his behaviour was abnormal, not matching Louis he knew, and it only disturbed him so much because  _ really _ … who was supposed to know him if he didn’t?

Yeah… That was not a debacle to solve that night though, Louis both too sleepy for such endeavours, and not willing to ruin the evening that despite the wet rag on his face, was one of the best ones they have spent together, just talking for the sake of keeping each other company, not waiting for the thing to escalate into having sex, that idea fully out of the window with how shitty Louis felt.

So, he pushed it all to the back, adding up to all the things that were, most definitely, going to bite him in the ass one of those days, but that’s a problem future Louis will have to handle, the current one decided to let himself enjoy the gentle massage of his shoulders, Harry sat on the small of his back, improvising more treatments into the spa evening he gifted his friend.

“You are way too tense.” His voice soft and soothing, bringing a smile onto Tomlinson’s face, one that was covered by a pillow he was laying on. “We can’t have that.” A single finger parted Lou’s back in two equal pieces, the gentlest of touches sending a shiver down his spine. The massage continued from that, the boy perhaps a bit more relaxed than formerly.

“This is so unnecessary.” Lou grumbled into the pillow, groaning in pure pleasure that overshadowed the nausea that wouldn’t let him live up to this point.

“You’re loving this.” The claim was bold, no trace of hesitancy in Harry’s words, his palms way too good at all of this, at least considering that he claimed to be a novice. “You are  _ so  _ loving this.”

_ Yeah _ , he was. And what? There really was no way he could’ve been more audible in appreciation of the massage than the groans and soft moans that Harry knew very well. However, it didn’t look like he was going to get off-the-hook until he uses his words, but he was too stubborn to let Harry win this. 

“It’s not horrible.” That was all he could give in terms of feedback, Harry’s tough hands bizarrely pleasant on his bare skin, the movements slicked with lotion included in the package. And then, they stopped, those glorious palms retracted completely, Styles only sitting right where he sat, clearly waiting to be asked to continue. “ _ Nooo… _ ” Lou only grumbled, too proud to give his friend the satisfaction, too stubborn to beg.

“I’m not going to inconvenience you so much if you’re oh-so-bothered.” The man above scoffed, teasing his pal with a slow drag of his fingers over the stretch of Lou’s back, nothing else coming after that. “God knows you had a crappy day.”

“You better head to yours then. I’m getting sleepy.” Mildly irritated, he rolled onto his back, getting rid of Harry’s weight on him. 

“I mean…” It was really quite evident that he was not appreciative of the way his own doing backfired on him. “I could make a case for this being  _ mine _ , I don’t remember the last time I’ve slept in that other bed.” 

“That’s just because I’m a very hospitable person.” Knees curled up to his chest, Louis propped his head on his shoulder, looking at his friend’s face as Harry quite obviously tried to come up with something that would keep him from sleeping alone that time. “A people pleaser, one might say.”

“Yeah, that you are alright.” He laid down, refusing to leave even despite being asked to, correctly reading that Louis didn’t  _ really  _ want him gone. A single finger drawing circles on the top of his friend’s right foot, he hooked fingers of his other hand around the boy’s ankle, pulling it closer to his face. 

Louis did not see coming what happened next, a rather playful in nature bite circled the protruding ball of his ankle, his foot retracted sooner than Harry had a chance to leave a proper mark. “ _ Disgusting. _ ” A grimace on his face clashed with the grin on his friend’s, Styles looking up at him from where his head laid.

“What’s the opposite of foot fetish?” The inquiry was not expected, so did seem the answer to the very question Harry asked, his eyebrows drawn together in interest. “Because you have that. At least it’s not terminal.”

“Thank you for the diagnosis, doctor.” Louis nodded his head once, reaching under the pillow for the very t-shirt that he usually slept in, slipping it onto himself, laying down for the night after that, thinking that his poor mood was enough of an excuse to substitute a mint for brushing teeth… at least until the morning comes. “What’s up with the face?” His comment regarded the frown that did not find its way off Harry’s face.

“Foot phobia and…” The frown even deepened as he thought something over in his head. “ _ Father difficulties. _ ” He concluded with a smug smirk stretching his lips, one he tried to cover with the material of the duvet.

Now that struck a nerve. “However you paraphrase daddy issues, I do not have them.”  _ Yeah _ , maybe he had them. Not the kind that would make him call his sexual partners  _ daddy  _ or something similarly disturbing, never sexual.  _ Yuck. _

“Sure, baby.” Tomlinson was not able to pinpoint the exact moment when Harry’s hand rested on his thigh, but he started to miss it as soon as he was devoid of it, the brunette scrambling from the bed onto his legs. “I need a shower.” He reacted to the puzzled look he got, Louis way too disappointed in the man leaving for somebody who literally just told Harry to beat it. “Should I say goodnight now or…?” 

He knew what he was doing, that little shit. Louis couldn’t help but smile, his lips covered by the bedding, though his eyes were enough to sell him out. “Don’t fall asleep just yet, I’ve heard them saying something about foot rubs in the forecasts.” 

Louis didn’t know whether Harry’s words made him more or less desperate to go to sleep, but either way, he knew he wouldn’t fall before he’s all nice and cuddled up, alarmingly quickly getting accustomed to the routine he was going to be forced to give up sooner than he’s ready to. Hell… he’ll he should probably think about ordering one of those boyfriend pillows he saw on Amazon once, one for his room in New York, one for his new San Francisco apartment… just to save himself sleepless nights.

-

“We should’ve gone with plain vanilla. I am adventurous like that.” Louis’ complaints emerged somewhere in between loud screeching of the buzz saw Harry was trimming his lumber with for quite a while now, the noise of it all etched in the boy’s brain to the point where he wouldn’t have troubles believing that the thing was still working. “I think I’m getting old.”

Harry scoffed at the comment, dropping the piece he just cut to the pile of other ones of the same dimensions, staying organized despite all the chaos around them. He smiled at Louis as he approached, letting himself take over the spoon they were sharing, scooping a generous portion of cookie dough ice cream they asked Anne to get for them, half of the pint already gone. They could have easily stopped long time ago, their sweet tooth satisfied with as little as a few spoons, but they were no quitters, not at all.

“You should start looking into those injections for wrinkles.” The head of brunette curls shook, Harry’s lips pursed as if he was seriously worried. “At least crow’s feet are not much of your concern. You’re incredibly…  _ neutral  _ today.”

Maybe he was, he didn’t know. There wasn’t really much for him to do though, so he just sat with his pint of ice cream and tried to get through it before he would be forced to drink the melted cookie dough soup, that vision almost making him gag.

It was Tuesday when he was finally let to leave the bed in which he was contained for the entire Monday, Harry insisting that he stays in and takes care of himself. In all honesty, it was a good call even if Louis didn’t appreciate being left alone to his devices. When on Sunday, he slipped past the sleep curtain somewhere amid the foot rub he was receiving from his friend, he didn’t get a chance to remain there for all too long, maybe three hours in total before he was propelled out of his bed by an unsettling sensation in his stomach.

A blessing, that’s for sure. He finally got the very thing he was almost praying for, his body getting rid of whatever it was that caused him to feel so shitty all day. So, he threw up, thankfully stealthily enough not to wake up Harry, he didn’t think he would bear the awareness that the brunette saw this pathetic display.

Maybe it was his tooth fairy’s revenge for not brushing his teeth that evening, because then he simply  _ had to  _ do just that. There was no question what was happening when he returned to the bed. His whole presence with eyes wet and paper-white skin, telling the tale of those ten minutes he spent in the bathroom to a man who only summoned him closer when Lou laid down, perhaps a bit apprehensive to approach due to how absolutely disgusting he felt, Harry lulling him back to sleep that didn’t last all that long at all, but still was  _ something. _

He wouldn’t be nearly as opposed to a day in bed if it wasn’t for the fact that he was there alone, because so it happened that not only Harry had their usual chores to take care of, but also that was the exact day he kicked off some new, elaborate project on his mother’s small land.

With a whole lot of time to kill, Louis caught up on sleep, waking up only at one in the evening when his body told him enough. Books were his next step, at least that’s what he thought he was going to be doing. Not at all. As soon as he picked up the story in the middle of which he stopped reading, having far better things to do than exploring Harry’s literary preferences, he only realized that he remembered virtually none of what he previously read. That’s how his little reading endeavour concluded.

Despite promising he wouldn’t get up until it wasn’t for food or using the bathroom, he still busied himself with unpacking the bag from their short getaway, but it didn’t really take long for him to do that. That’s when he got the idea to take care of Harry’s while he was at it, just a little something for how nice the man was to him, but it turned out Styles was faster than him, which probably shouldn’t have surprised the boy as much as it did.

He tried to nap some more, but that was not something he was physically able to do, his battery filled to the point where there was nothing else that could have been added. From the lack of a better thing to do, he reached for the nail polish bottle Harry left on the nightstand and painted his trimmed toenails to match the colour on his hands. 

Only when he was responsible for the brush, it turned out to be far more difficult to stay within the lines than it seemed to be. Looking at the atrocity he committed, he gave Harry credit for the wonder he was able to achieve on the hands. Without anything able to get rid of the varnish, he sighed and came to terms with the embarrassment that, seeing the sheepish look on the boy’s face once he was  _ forced  _ to present them, Harry deemed ‘cute’, that one perhaps bettering Lou’s mood slightly even if still an obvious lie.

When the blue paint took more time to dry than Louis would ever think it would, the thickness of his coat more than likely responsible for that, Tomlinson realized that laid down, he was in a perfect position for a mildly satisfactory self-love session that he, for whatever reason, felt bad for engaging in. But it was not his fault Harry refused to touch him ever since his symptoms started. He had his needs, alright? 

Rest of the day was spent on… nothing really. He wandered around his room, moved stuff only for the sake of doing something, putting it back whenever he decided that the initial placement was superior. He took an unnecessarily long bath that wasn’t even needed in the first place, and then, when he started feeling better around four, that’s when he left his room, heading for the kitchen where he helped Ada with preparing dinner, one he couldn’t believe was so stomach-neutral without a reason, that thoughtful bastard of a friend of his taking care of everything.

Harry returned late, very late that evening, evidently exhausted by whatever it was that he was doing at his mother’s. And if Louis had a plan to spur him into something naughty when he gets back, just to make up for that humiliating in a sense pastime he found for himself earlier, he couldn’t, in right conscience insist on that now. It had to do though. 

He reciprocated all the nice things Harry has done for him just a day before, and helped him shower, giving him little something from himself when Harry, or rather his body over which he didn’t have nearly as much control as he would like to, proved to be just as eager for some mischief as the other guy. It wasn’t a mystery that he was not exactly in shape for anything more than being on the receiving end, maybe not even that, his legs wobbly to the point where he was ordered to lay down when the younger guy took care of him in a way different than he was taken care of, but there was no denying that he was better at giving blowies than foot rubs, it didn’t look like Harry was disappointed.

They made up for it alright in the morning even if Louis would  _ never  _ think anything quite this nice could play out at five in the fucking morning, but  _ fuck _ , he needed that, they both did. 

So, maybe they were  _ a bit  _ late for breakfast, even though they really tried to rush through their morning chores. The whole morning was hectic, Harry trying to get his part done so he could head to his mother’s.

It took too much for Louis to realize he wasn’t included in that plan, but when he finally did, that’s when he led Harry out of the idea, insisting that he should tag along, even if allegedly there was nothing for him to do.

Harry wasn’t wrong, as it turned out. As soon as they arrived to the site of that new, mysterious project: a whole heap of lumber, and a frame of… Louis didn’t know what, but given that the whole thing was done in those few hours that the man was gone the day before, his state last evening was more than justified. 

Louis just sat there for the sake of keeping his friend company, which really didn’t help in the efficiency of Harry’s work, but he didn’t complain. 

When Harry explained what he was doing, that was what solidified the idea of him leaving Frank’s farm for good. He was erecting some sort of housing for Raven, whom he couldn’t even imagine leaving at the farm, and he knew driving there every day would become tedious real quick.

“Can you even keep one horse?” Louis decided to quench his curiosity, always considering horses sociable animals, at least for those few weeks that he got acquainted with them. 

“If you have to…  _ yeah _ .” His shoulders shrugged quickly. “There are ways to make them not feel lonely.”

“Like what?” 

“Mom wants to get him a friend goat.” A smile eased itself onto both of their faces, Louis greatly amused by a vision of Raven and a goat partner in crime. “They’re far easier to take care of, and make good companions from what I’ve heard.”

“Butcher and his little goat friend.” The teen chuckled, gaining himself a stern stare for the use of that name. “I wish I could see that.”

He shouldn’t have said that, it was stupid of him to. Now, the atmosphere was ruined, the inevitable parting brought up by Lou’s uncontrollable babbling.  _ Sure,  _ they both knew that the bigger part of their time together was already behind them. However, none wanted to think about it until it was completely unavoidable. 

For now, they could at least pretend there wasn’t a deadline for their friendship. Hell, they were doing an alright job at it up until this point… well, not completely. It wasn’t unusual for Louis to think about that during his silent downtime with Harry, he could only imagine this was not what his friend spent a lot of time pondering over though.

The size of that heap of things he pushed to the backburner started becoming overwhelming, but once again, he added another position to it, fucking his future self over. As already established, they did not have all that much time left together, so why would he waste it on worrying about the future?

“God, I’ve missed this.” Harry sighed out as he fell on the heap of lumber Louis was sitting on, still devouring his ice cream, stubborn to finish the pint. From the way his eyes were focused on the saw he just now put down for the time being, he could really only miss woodworking.

“Missing work…” The teen’s head shook for a second until he moved to scooping ice cream, feeding the spoonful to his companion. “You are clinically insane.” 

“I just like my job.” His shoulders shrugged, eyes stuck to the spoon, silently demanding another delivery of ice cream. 

Of course, Louis provided. “I wouldn’t know how that feels like.” He scoffed, eyes rolling to the greyish skies above, the weather still not back to the usual swelter. “I think I like what I’m doing at Frank’s, but for all the wrong reasons.”

“Like what?” It was obvious he was being smug, but it didn’t matter.

“You should see my supervisor’s ass.” His eyes wide, he told the tale with excitement in his features. Harry smiled at that, leaning to the side, teasing Lou’s lips with his, the tips of their noses bumping into each other.

They were almost sure nobody could see them where they were, the barn was being built just where the fence of Anne’s backyard ended. Even if somebody caught them, as unlikely as it was… well, a little smooch shouldn’t surprise the lady of the house. 

The deal was just about to be sealed, Harry’s hand on Louis’ thigh, when the boy smiled smugly, just to himself really. “Those thunder thighs of Frank’s…  _ god. _ ” That was a risky joke considering the troubled relationship Harry had with their boss, but he still laughed, somewhere between giving his pal recognition for his wit, and trying to seem insulted.

“Whatever gets you out up in the morning.” Styles winked, laying the smallest of kisses on Lou’s lips, the two of them  _ almost  _ sticking together with the sugary residue from the ice cream. “Is there one thing that you can imagine yourself enjoying doing?” 

It was really just a paraphrase of the very same question he asked somewhere in the beginning of their friendship, wasn’t it? Whether it was the truth or he was making shit up right now, the answer was still the same. “Not business.” Yeah, that he was sure of. Never business.

“There’s a really quite easy solution to that predicament of yours.” The brunette murmured, somewhat tentatively because he knew this was a touchy subject. “I’m sure you know what I am talking about.”

“It’s not as easy as you think it is.” The sigh that flared Lou’s nostrils was one of the exhausted kind. 

“It is never easy if it means something.” This time, Harry sighed too, pulling his legs up so now his legs were crossed, eyes stuck ahead since it just felt…  _ easier  _ like that, didn’t matter neither was particularly struggling with the chat. Maybe the transition from their usual banter was a bit unexpected, but it was not the first time that happened, and not the last one either. “At the end of the day, nobody is going to live this life for you.”

“Sometimes I wish I could just… take off, you know?” Bizarrely bold, despite the fact that he felt rather stupid saying that out loud for the first time…  _ ever,  _ if he remembered correctly, he turned to face his friend. The streak of sighs continued, a sheepish smirk entered the teen’s face as he was searching for solace in the brunette’s expression. Not finding anything of that sort, just that impenetrable, pensive façade, he claimed the palm that was resting between him and the owner of said limb, sourcing some comfort from the feeling of Harry’s fingers slipping between his own.

A smile eased the frown Harry’s face housed for a hot minute, the man looking down to chance a glance at their intertwined hands, the size difference amusing him even more than his thoughts. “Same.” He croaked. “At least once a week.” The confession was light even if it probably shouldn’t feel like that. It wasn’t often that Styles felt embarrassed by the thoughts and deepest of secrets he laid on his friend. 

“Then leave.” Some twisted excitement made it into his words. Even with that higher pitch of his voice, Louis could already imagine that this childlike spark was even more obvious in his eyes, the tighter grip of his finger adding to the whole demeanour that changed so quickly, anybody would be shocked upon witnessing it. Anybody but Harry, who already recognized the unpredictability of his friend’s emotional state. “Go with me then. To San Francisco.” The expressive slate that Lou’s face usually was, went blank once the proposition fell off his lips, unexpected, unwanted, and so fucking out of line he almost slapped himself for letting it happen.

He would be lying if he said that this was the first time a thought of that kind sparked in his brain, but those never were anything more than childish fantasies that he made up whenever he got either bored or simply pondered too much over his friend’s fate in this piece of shit town he lived in. They were archived almost as soon as they surfaced, mostly due to the absolute ridiculousness of the idea that Styles would, in fact, leave all his life for an emotionally scarred twink he knew for what… two months?

That’s why now that it turned out thoughts of this kind had popped up from time to time, he knew he fucked up. Hell, he wouldn’t blame if Harry just then called the whole thing off, because suddenly it felt all too fucking serious. 

'Kudos to that man' , Louis thought seeing the absolute composure on his pal’s face. If the roles were switched, he would be, most fucking likely, already flipping out. It took some emotional mastery to stay so…  _ unbothered  _ by all of this. Maybe it wasn’t actually as surprising considering Harry’s godlike self-control.

“I’m sorry. Don’t hate me please.” Tomlinson whined, clutching his companion’s hand harder, an embarrassed smile on his lips as he tried to make a joke out of it. 

Now there was a smirk on Harry’s lips. So, there was hope. “I wouldn’t.” The man only chuckled. “Now what kind of running away would that be if we still went to San Francisco? Not really fair if you ask me.” Thank god for Styles’ superior ability to make a joke out of the plea that was far more serious than they tried to make it seem like it was. 

“You underestimate my chances to argue a more suitable major for myself.” Louis was the first one to break the physical contact, the boy jumping off the stack of lumber they were sitting on, waiting for Harry who was yet to react to Anne calling them for lunch. “Which wouldn’t  _ really  _ mean running away, but depending how you look at it… it might actually be a better option.”

“But it wouldn’t be running away.” Matter-of-factly, Harry observed, unlatching the gate so they could join Anne who barely came back from work, and yet found a moment to prepare food for them.

“Not for me, no.” Louis admitted, taking a sip of the lemonade that accompanied the burgers that were already waiting for them at the table, two on each plate with the rest of the space filled by golden fries. Looked like Harry’s mother wasn’t planning on joining them. “That’s way too much.” He groaned, his mouth salivating at the sight alone.

Harry hasn’t commented that on more instances than one, he had seen his friend devour far bigger plates of food. He just smiled, and wandered to the side, rinsing his hands off saw dust with the hose. 

“Thank you.” A small nod of acknowledgement was sent Harry’s way when he topped his friend’s glass with more of the cold, tart beverage. “These look  _ so good _ .” It was way too close to those groans that only Harry should hear when Anne perched to his right with a burger of her own. 

For all the talking how great the food looked, he was taking bizarrely long to take a bite. The reason behind that was the fact that his burgers were in pieces at the moment, Harry stealing the pickles that Anne put there, not knowing that the teen wasn’t crazy about them.

Honestly, there was some sort of special bond solidified strictly around Lou’s dislike towards the pickles, and Harry’s eagerness to always take over however much was taken out of his pal’s food. It didn’t even matter that much that Anne seemed a bit taken aback by the shamelessness with which her son meddled with the guest’s plate, but Harry didn’t give a flying fuck about that, licking the ketchup residue off his fingers, immediately moving to his own plate, a solid quarter of his first burger devoured at once.

Saying that they needed all those calories and grease would be rather stupid, but somehow they really  _ needed  _ those burgers, who cares that Louis could feel his arteries getting blocked with every bite he took, tapping out after one full and maybe three bites out of the second burger, one Harry finished for him because apparently he was blessed (or cursed, depends how you look at it) with a bottomless stomach.

How willing to go back to work were they two burgers and a heap of fries after? Anybody with a functioning brain could probably imagine. That’s why they haven’t returned at all, just lingered in the garden, hanging out with Anne up until the point where they couldn’t lie to themselves anymore, and needed to get back to the farm, knowing that neither them nor the horses would appreciate them staying longer, far too many things they had yet to tackle.

“I won, so we are  _ not  _ going fishing.” The competitive edge was gone from Louis’ voice now that he was securing the cards with a rubber band, Harry scrambling off the ground to return to the activity this quick round of slapjack was a break from.

“I am still taking you on that boat.” Styles blinked at his friend lazily, not that inconvenienced by the change of plans he only announced maybe two hours prior, during one of the rides they were taking with the horses when they finally got to exercising them. To be completely honest, he was sure as all hell Louis would hate fishing, so it was probably better for their relationship that they crossed that one off their to-do-list. 

“I like a good boat.” The confession likely didn’t surprise Harry at all.  _ Of fucking course _ , he liked boats. At the end of the day, he was a quintessential spoiled brat.

“I can see that.” The vibration of that chuckle tickled Lou’s ears from the few feet apart, the older of the two already by his chopping station, splitting a piece of lumber in two with a loud bang. “I can also imagine your definition of a boat is far different than what pop’s old lady has to offer.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Lou’s hand flied in a dismissing gesture, the boy approaching his friend carefully, making sure he’s visible so Harry could take caution as well. “Just look at what I’m dealing with here. Scraps.” He circled the brunette, looping his hands around Styles’ chest, cuddling into the bare skin covering Harry’s muscular back. “It’s obvious my expectations couldn’t be any lower than that.”

He laughed because of course, he was not serious. It was a ridiculous thing, but he sort of felt like he should say that he was joking, especially now that he got absolutely no reaction to that questionable comedic genius of his. “Imagine the audacity I would have to possess to criticize  _ you _ .” The chuckle he struggled through partially closed-off throat was a nervous one, his nose crossing a path his fingernails previously left. Ask him why he did that, and he wouldn’t know the answer, but he still took a solid bite at Harry’s side. It was a good move, as it turned out, sourcing a chortle that was something he was rather desperate for.

“Why? Because you’re so ugly?”  _ Ouch _ . Now Louis understood why his friend found nothing funny in that endeavour of his. Because see, he knew it was a joke, yet it still stung. “Come here.” The brunette spun, setting his palms on either of Tomlinson’s hips, just like he always did when he had a chance. “We’re both so hot, aren’t we? Just the hottest.” He winked, leaning down to nibble at the very tip of his pal’s nose.

And… there was some truth to the statement. While Harry was the single hottest person Louis ever had sex with, arguably the best-looking one he ever met, though he could’ve been biased, he wasn’t nearly as confident in his looks as the other guy seemed to be now. In some twisted way, even the sole awareness that he was fucking Harry, brought his self-image to all-time highs, and  _ yes _ , nobody really knew that they were fooling around, but it still worked somehow. “ _ Yeah. _ ” He still smirked, accepting a little peck to his lips, barely a touch, but enough to cheer him right up. 

“Ah, fuck all this.” Harry let go of Lou, turning to his station, impaling the axe into the base of his chopping, grabbing the tee he discarded on a pile of cut lumber just to dry his face off the sweat he managed to work up. “I think I need a reminder how absolutely remarkable those thighs are.” Bolder than ever in voicing his desire, he pinched the boy’s side as they were already making it out of the barn, turning the light off like responsible boys they were, rushing to get into the farmhouse, darkness in every window very convenient at the moment, providing them with privacy they sometimes had to struggle to get around there.

“You’re relentless.” The grumble that crawled out of Harry’s throat was low, stifled by the pasty skin of Louis’ left thigh he was nibbling in for what felt like ten hours, whatever the briefs the teen was wearing left uncovered, already covered in pink bruises, nothing extreme, just the evidence of Styles’ mischief. “How can you even watch this?” He sighed exasperated.

From the very moment they have stepped into Louis’ bedroom, Styles seemed to be rather set on the plan he made up for the evening without his friend’s knowledge, so much so, that Lou didn’t remember seeing him nearly as disappointed as he looked when it turned out that his plans didn’t match his partner’s.  _ Maybe  _ Louis liked to be a tease, maybe he didn’t feel like fooling around at the moment, but it didn’t take long for him to break out Harry’s laptop and head straight to read the email he knew Xavier sent him, but hasn’t checked it earlier. 

Skimming over a rather generic message from his friend, Xavier describable by everything but wordy, he found a link at the very bottom of the clumsily formatted email, still a step above those chaotic stretches of text Louis sent, barely any interpunction to speak of. The link took him to YouTube, where he found highlights of a UFC fight he managed to miss this weekend. Somehow, he completely forgot, though it was not  _ that  _ surprising… he had quite a lot on his plate at the moment.

It’s not like he could justify paying to watch the event, so YouTube it was for him. “ _ Yeah _ , I can’t stand looking at those ripped guys.” The exhaustion in his voice was  _ heavy _ , and very obviously fake. For once, he gave Harry the absolute honour and looked down, the discontentment was slowly but surely breaking through the seductive front the brunette adapted still in the barn, more and more prominent with every second his clinginess was not entertained.

Persistent to get his fix, Styles still smiled, peppering the smallest of pecks wherever he could reach with his lips, going over the redness he left with his teeth. It was quite a surprise when he found out that MMA was something the teen took interest in, the hobby not something he would ever assign to him based on the appearance only.  _ On the other hand _ … Lou’s attitude was not exactly obvious on first glance either.

“You can still look at them, I don’t mind.”  _ Yeah _ , he minded, something unsettling flashing in his expression when he proposed this scenario. “Just take these off, and let me have my fun.” He still went deeper into it, his slender fingers teasing the skin covered by the boxers Louis was wearing.

It sounded… tempting, at least at first. There was still sixteen minutes left of his show, Harry could do plenty in sixteen minutes, there was no doubt about that. But then… it felt wrong to even think about allowing that. As if that clip of semi-entertaining highlights was better than this gorgeous Adonis, so eager to please too. “You know this bed keeps no secrets.” The excuse was there more to fuck with the man even more, maybe Tomlinson enjoyed pissing his friend off a tad too much.

Just as if the inanimate object wanted to support Lou’s words, a loud screech tore through the silence with as little as a twitch of Harry’s body. Assuming that the hosts were already used to the noise that wrought iron bedframe produced, especially that they were the ones who bought it, he pulled himself up further, knees settled on either side of Lou’s right thigh, hand travelling to set a camp on the boy’s waist.

Deeming Lou’s lips not accessible where the boy was looking at the screen again, he exploited the opportunity and pressed his lips to the side of his neck, struggling to keep balance in this rather risky position. “This is just abhorrent.” A comment slipped past his lips when he caught a glance of a particularly gruesome kick, and  _ fair enough _ , Lou’s stomach might have jumped once he saw blood gushing from… honestly, he didn’t even know where. 

“You have your animals and chopping wood…” The teen stood his ground, letting his hands fall on his partner’s hips. His caution seemed to be mistaken for interest, Styles quick to claim his companion’s lips the second he had opportunity. “I have my half-naked guys making out in the ring.” His description was rather inaccurate, but it didn’t really matter, he didn’t care to be factual.

To be fair, he was not even  _ that  _ interested in the whole thing. At least not as much as Styles apparently assumed he was. It was just a thing Xavier was borderline obsessed with, to the point where, at age maybe fourteen, he faked interest in it as well just because he was desperate to keep his friend when he overreacted, and convinced himself that he was losing a friend. 

In all honesty, his worries weren’t completely unfounded.  _ Fine _ , he might have been insecure at that point in his life, but it didn’t help that Xavier started mingling with those seniors, their bond built solely on the shared interest in martial arts. What did a boring, freshmen Louis had on the group of oh-so-cool senior willing to accept Xav into their group? Nothing at all. 

This was not something Tomlinson returned to often, his high school self the bottom of the barrel in that whole hierarchy. It was lucky that he even had friends to speak of. Acne-covered, still closeted idiot that exceeded in school only due to his daddy’s influence, was not the most liked one at school, so he was  _ desperate  _ to keep that friendship. 

It wasn’t only his ego that he wanted to save, though. By that point, he felt like their friendship was too important to loose, especially that he was sort of aware that Xavier was the glue that held their group of three together, and he didn’t want to lose Rosemary either. He still did, that something Xavier could fully blame Tomlinson for, but his faux interest in UFC kept their pack going for a year and some longer.

Somewhere along the way, he wasn’t even sure when exactly, but he got into it… not as much as Xavier, but he kept up with the most important updates. Even his dad seemed satisfied, joining in whenever he caught his son watching fights in the living room… how very straight of him, huh? 

It was silent when they sat together, uncomfortable, but it was as much bonding as they ever got. As sad as it was, those broken comments they threw at each other were most of their communication for the year… at least before Louis sacrificed their huge living room flatscreen for fourteen inches of his laptop. And of course, he did that just to avoid these ‘chats’, soon enough talking Isabella into getting a TV installed in his bedroom as a birthday present.

“I’m half-naked.” Harry broke that little contemplative streak when Louis stopped paying attention to both Styles and the video he was watching. “And you constantly call me hot.” Well… he wasn’t  _ wrong. _ He liked his Harry well-complimented, hyping him up whenever the mood was right. “I can take these off if you’d like. They are not going to drop theirs.”

The argument was a rather lousy one, but it still brought a smirk onto Lou’s lips, one that deepened when the brunette started teasing the waistband of his underwear with the tips of his fingers, more amusing than seductive, but if Tomlinson liked his friend confident, he liked him silly just as much. 

“You always know how to get me hot and bothered.” The laugh that Lou huffed out was barely even human, his lip bitten as he reached for the laptop, and slapped it closed, his stomach not appreciating all the gore either way. “Oof…” He fanned his face with the palm he had free, the fingers of his dominant one hooking the waistband, pulling it away from the brunette’s skin. 

He still foolishly licked his lips, even though he couldn’t see anything from the position he adapted. “Maybe you have a thing for gross, sweaty dudes.” Seemingly, it was a joke, although there was a seed of truth to the accusation. 

_ Gross _ was a big word to use, that’s not how he would describe it, but as it recently turned out, he liked his men…  _ well exercised _ , for the lack of a better term. Long story short, it seemed as though the moments he considered his friend the sexiest, Harry was amid some serious physical strain, his body drenched in whatever it was that his pores pushed out, golden skin gloriously glistening in the sunbeams.

“Go on, do fifty push-ups and see how I like you then.” He teased, quickly capturing his fool of a friend when he took his words perhaps a tad too seriously, already starting to leave the bed to fulfil the request. “Now that I think about it… we could just get sweaty together.”

The joy in Harry’s face was the most adorable thing Louis had seen in a while, the brunette so youthful, so excited to finally get his way after what it felt like eons of persuading. “Dirty boys.” His murmur was more a gust of chocolatey breath the two of them shared from the snacks they were indulging in.

“Good thing I’ve postponed this shower. Would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?”

“There is a whole lot of fun to be had in the shower though.”

“Until someone slips and dies a horrible death.” The pessimist in Louis shone bright and proud. “Imagine dying with blue balls.” Horror in his eyes, he lets himself be kissed, the laptop soon on the floor, finalizing the deal Harry persuaded his friend into.

“I would never do that!” Louis repeats himself, because it is necessary even if it shouldn’t be, suddenly very conscious where previously he was just hovering above his own body, the treatment he got from Harry a whole out of body experience, until…  _ Yeah _ , perhaps his tongue suffered much more than it usually did during a rimjob, Lou probably wouldn’t even hesitate to accept this as an excuse because it’s never been quite so…  _ ugh _ , but then Harry ruined it, jokingly insinuating that Louis had daddy issues.

“I’m not saying that  _ you  _ would.” The amusement still loud and clear in the brunette’s voice, Harry’s legs wrapped around Lou’s waist as he sat, smoothing his hand over the mess atop the younger one’s head, one that he was fully responsible for. “I’ve just heard that it was popular with people suffering from…” He fell silent, a smirk playing on his lips, red, bitten raw. “ _ Father difficulties. _ ” 

What is left to do than laugh? Nothing, that’s why Louis does just that. “I’m not going to call you  _ daddy _ …” The word strangely heavy to struggle through his throat, Lou physically cringing at the sound of it. “If that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“That’s not  _ at all  _ what I meant.” 

“Right.” Louis winks, letting his hands fall to the small of Harry’s back, slowly rubbing his thumbs over the skin there. They needed a shower, both of them, one more than the other, but it didn’t really matter at the moment, both far from germaphobes. 

The atmosphere shifted, Harry silent and strangely contemplative on the face, with interest investigating the area of his most recent discovery. “I can’t believe I never noticed it.” His head shook, a look of… almost disappointment, easing itself on his face. 

“It’s  _ a dot _ , Harry.” Tomlinson stresses, quite surprised that was still on his friend’s mind. It had to be though, how else do you explain curious fingers smoothing over the skin where he discovered a rather unimpressive speckle of ink stabbed under the skin of a boy who once thought his pain threshold would allow him to get a tattoo, a boy who was  _ very  _ wrong with that claim.

“What was it supposed to be?” The question was asked again when the previous attempts faded away in the air without a proper answer.

“Fuck if I know.” Louis laughed, and he wasn’t lying. All he knew, was that he was fucking  _ glad  _ he chickened out. He’d probably end up dying from some horrible infection if he followed through, some random dude’s apartment probably the worst place to get a stick and poke, especially when said dude doesn’t even have a proper light and you have to lay on the counter so he can use lightbulb in his kitchen hood. “The one and only time I tried ayahuasca, can’t be blamed if my memory is a bit fuzzy.”

“So it doesn’t mean anything at all?” The inquiry settled on Lou’s chin, Harry looking up at him with childlike curiosity.

“It means: never do ayahuasca.” A single peck was pressed to Lou’s chin. “But if I recall that particular period correctly… I would suspect ‘I hate dad’ in big, bold letters.”

The fingers were still there, on the skin when a small speckle of ink was settled, but the intention was quite different than before, just simple gesture of affection, no other motive behind that. “Sophisticated.”

“You know me.” Lou shrugged his shoulders, swaying a bit to the sides until he gained enough momentum, and swayed them down to the mattress. Harry untangling his sore limbs from his friend who might have just previously been the tree trunk to his koala.

“I’m out over the weekend.” Harry finally broke the silence, only screeching of the bedframe that more than likely sold their secret to the entire town, state even, audible when the brunette struggled a blanket from under Lou’s unyielding body. “We are. As in… Mom, Gemma and… me.” He clarified, Louis could only imagine he felt like he had to do that since for some time...  _ we  _ just meant Harry and Louis.

“Gemma’s coming?” Louis threw, mildly interested, more concerned in hiding the disappointment he knew was all over his face, though he believed that their mutual friend, the night, already took care of that. He liked all the days with Harry, but weekends were arguably the best time they had, Harry void of chores and fully engaged in whatever it was that they did to fill time.

“She is.” He was grinning, apparently very pleased with his sister’s visit. It wasn’t even long since they’ve seen each other, so he didn’t really understand it much. One might think that they were good till Thanksgiving with all the cuddles and bickering everybody present in Anne’s house over Gemma’s first visit could witness. 

Maybe they were close, Louis was not judging. “Cool.” He nodded once, shifting the lower half of his silhouette to force his cold feet between Harry’s. “Where are you off to?”

“My cousin had a baby recently.” The brows adorning the boy’s face furrowed… seemed little late for a baby shower, but okay. “They’re Christening her this Saturday.” A little smile danced in the corners of his lips, one that Lou decided to encourage, pressing a thumb to the very source of the expression, the gesture enough to make the smile more definite. “I’ve been asked to be the godfather.” 

“How cool.” Was it cool? Louis didn’t know. Harry seemed pleased, he looked almost proud. Would it be shitty if Lou said that he felt all but pleased himself? Because weekends were already a tricky time, Frank unfortunately more present around the house, and without Harry…  _ shit. _

“You can stay at ours.” The timing seemed to be far from coincidental, Styles already skilled with the tiniest twitches of Lou’s expression he could flawlessly translate them into actual language. “Pops out with his pals. Fishing.”

“It’s okay, I’ll just hide in the corners and pretend I’m not here either.” The hand he swatted hits Harry’s arm, he throws an apologetic look at the man. 

“Or you can actually not be here.” The words brought a bit of confusion, Louis not sure why Harry was so insistent on his friend staying at his mother’s house. Maybe they needed a house sitter. A cat sitter probably.

“I can pop in and feed the devil, but I’m not staying with her alone.”  _ Yeah _ … he wasn’t fond of Anne’s cat, not really. It was the moodiest little piece of shit, and that came from Louis, out of all people. One day she’s cuddly and tames eights around your ankles, the next one she scratches so fiercely, you never want to deal with a cat again. Dogs, that’s where it’s at. 

“That’s not what I meant.” A crease parts his eyebrows, Harry’s hand outstretched above Lou’s head. “It was my way of asking if you’d like to come with me.” 

“Do they include plus ones at Baptisms?” His eyebrow cocked up just for the fuck of it, how could he know?

Harry’s gaze escaped Lou’s, and that’s enough of an answer. “Yes, I think.” That’s a lie. Harry  _ fucking  _ Styles had just lied to him, for the first time probably, the man holier than the man whose temple Louis was already planning to invade on Saturday. If Harry cared enough to lie to him, he really had no other choice but to agree.

“If I engulf in flames the second my foot crosses the threshold, it’s on you.” The threat sounds far too serious right then.

“At least I’ll get points for entertainment.”

“What do you even wear for something like that?” And  _ of course _ , this is was all he was concerned with.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading early because I have this weird bit that doesn't fit any of the neighbouring chapters, but is kinda essential to the story, so I couldn't cut it out. It's too short to make it the upload for next week so here you have it, enjoy.  
> Thank you all for commenting the last upload! I hope you're all alive and well. See you on Wednesday :)

“I really thought you’d be worse at this.” Harry’s words broke off his friend’s streak of concentration, the head of the driver snapping to the side, eyes almost furious.

“And would you explain why?” Louis rose an eyebrow, suddenly very feisty because, contrary to his pal’s words, he felt he was not doing good….  _ At all.  _ “Because I’m gay?” He pressed for an answer he wasn’t getting, a smirk on Harry’s lips when he reached his arm and tugged the steering wheel slightly to the right to level their course.

“Eyes on the road.” Styles instructed calmly, bringing a flashback of the horseback riding lessons from some time ago. “Nothing to do with your taste.” His hands were washed off all the accusations. “It’s just that you still don’t seem to grasp the whole walking thing completely.” He was prepared for what was coming, accepting a swat to his arm, fingers still securing the wheel.

It was when Louis was browsing the web in search of a vehicle that he was going to need in San Francisco, when Harry started mocking him. It was not malicious, not at all, never was with him. However playful and amusing, he felt the need to prove himself that he is, in fact, capable of driving a car. It’s not  _ that  _ hard, okay?

Perhaps it was harder than he remembered. 

The changing rooms were almost empty so early on a weekday when the two of them were trying on clothes in a nearly dead mall they drove to, on a mission to get a nice shirt Louis could wear for the family event he was invited to merely a few hours before. It was an endless streak of shirts that looked the fucking same, but didn’t fit him in all different ways, and yet he didn’t get irritated one bit, enjoying the comments a floating head, rest of the body hidden behind the curtain, was throwing at him.

It must’ve been the third or fourth shop they were browsing through, already at both the best and worst part of trying shit on, Harry joined the room he  _ insisted  _ they should share for the sake of keeping the other ones open for potential clients that simply were barely there, but Louis didn’t question, and just let him in, not thinking through that the cubicle was already too small for him alone.

“Don’t they have cameras here?” The boy asked, buttoning a thousandth shirt up, receiving another kiss to his lips while he was at it, Harry long done with the process of trying clothes on. Because  _ of course _ , the first pair of dress pants he expressed interest in, fit him like a fucking glove.

“I don’t think that’s legal.” He chuckled, unbuttoning the shirt much to Louis’ confusion because he didn’t even get to look in the mirror. Perhaps he looked so bad, Harry wanted to shield his fragile self-image. “What if I wasn’t wearing any underwear?” The question was clearly hypothetical, the man now buttoning the shirt back, making sure he didn’t miss a hole in the process like Louis did.

“Then you  _ probably  _ shouldn’t be trying on pants.” Louis accepted another little peck. “This isn’t horrible…?” He wasn’t sure… he really wasn’t. Something sad wove itself in his sigh when he realised that he very much needed Vanessa’s honest to the point of being brutal expertise that has  _ never  _ done him wrong in his life.

“I like it.” Harry commented, nodding his head just a bit. “Though you might be cold.”

“I’m never cold.” With that lie still on his lips, he stripped out of that shirt, and handed it to Harry, taking care of the pile of rejects.

Done with the process, they were out of the store in no time, carrying the bags to the car they borrowed from Anne, an unsettling rattle that made itself known during one of their rides to the lake, sent Harry’s truck straight to maintenance.

There was still this crease in between Harry’s eyebrows when they approached the car, the man kept patting his pockets, and Louis already knew what was happening because...  _ well. _

“Looking for this?” He swayed the key he swiped from Harry in the dressing room, the keychain clinking just barely so.

Louis is already opening the vehicle. “What are you doing?”

“Driving.” The nonchalance in his voice was not matching the slight panic about the state of Anne’s car when they get back… Well…  _ if _ Harry  _ actually  _ lets him drive it.

He did, although not with a bit of fierce negotiation. They came to an agreement that Louis would take the wheel once they’re closer to home, roads less busy than in the town they were visiting. And he said something about driving  _ lessons  _ that made Tomlinson angry to the point of calling the whole thing off, but then, in a moment of clarity, he decided that wrecking Anne’s car because he was slightly irritated with her son was not the appropriate punishment.

And they have switched once the roads became clearer, Louis was doing rather alright, a true master of driving in a straight line.

Soon they were home, and something in how absolutely unbothered Anne was seeing Louis getting out from behind the wheel of her car, made him love that woman just about ten times more than he usually did.

Gemma was already there when they arrived. Being a substitute for Vanessa, she complimented the shirt Louis picked for himself. The praise didn't last long before she shot Harry, something Louis couldn’t help but deem a questioning look, and disappeared to have her cigarette in the garden.

It was already dark, and they should have been home ages ago, but the gravity around Anne’s couch was suddenly so strong, they never stood a chance. There were some attempts to get up, though they were weak, and never matched with each other. Whenever Harry claimed that they  _ absolutely  _ just had to go, that’s when Louis threatened suicide if he’s forced to get up, and the other way around… on a constant loop.

The deadline was set on the end of the movie they were watching, Gemma initiating a séance of  _ Friends with Benefits  _ due to her former infatuation with Justin Timberlake. She just wanted a glance, that’s what it was, she claimed, but somehow she managed to make Louis uncomfortable for over an hour already, and that’s without saying a word.

No… not exactly. She said a word. A whole avalanche of words, hitting pretty much every position in Merriam-Webster dictionary as she commented every scene, pointing out cliches, and shameless ads woven into the standard plot that Louis knew all too well having watched the a handful of the same exact movie with a different actors, the plot never seeming to change.

And yet, it didn’t explain  _ why  _ he was so uncomfortable, and he wished he knew why himself, actually  _ knew _ , but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“This is the most effort an absolute cliché has ever put into seeming like a quirky and interesting character.” The younger woman sighed, downing the rest of her already tepid red wine. “ _ I mean _ …” Yeah, she was done with the movie… from the second it started as it seemed. Just like Louis, though he could only wonder if her hostility was anywhere as puzzling as his was. “Isn’t that the most selfish thing?” Her question slipped past the disinterested crowd without any answer. To be quite honest, Louis enjoyed her spiky comments, they gave him distraction. Until she said that about the dramatic love declaration, and somehow he wished she stayed quiet… Like Albert was, half-present in the room. “It never does look like that too. Because people outside of those stupid, Hollywood-made rom coms have actual, functioning brains and don’t fall in love with everything that as little as looks at their clit.”

Louis chuckled, but it was nervous and maybe too quiet to make out in the room. At least he hoped so, chancing a look at Harry who sat the closest to him, finding him still living through the culminating moment of the whole film.

“ _ Gem. _ ” Anne scolded her child, apparently not thrilled by her daughter’s foul mouth and apparent experience in casual sex arrangements.

“She isn’t wrong, is she?” Harry came to life, supporting his sister in the battle of blank stares the women exchanged above the coffee table. “it’s just really overdramatic.” He added, and Louis just about falls apart right there.

There’s a fire in his lungs, and there was a flood in his eyes that he has to blink away if it’s the last thing he’ll do. He struggled a sip of rose through his tight throat, just to give himself something else to do other than look so utterly hurt as he could only imagine himself looking.

It was… anticlimactic, when it happened.

Perhaps because it was always so obvious, and yet he never gave it a proper name.

Giving it a proper name would only make it real…  _ right? _

But then, in the living room, void of a title… it still felt as real as ever.

Louis cared about Harry.

Louis cared about Harry a lot.

Louis cared about Harry just a little too much.

Louis was in love.

He was in love with a man who might as well just have ripped his little heart out of his chest and stomped over it. Something gave him the idea that it would hurt a bit less than what he was going through at the moment, suddenly so frail on Anne’s couch, so fragile he hoped a mosquito doesn’t dare to sit on his skin because then, he was sure he would just disintegrate into dust Anne would have to vacuum from the nooks and crannies for the rest of her life.

Did he  _ really  _ love him? How was he know? What exactly was love anyways? Was it every cell of his body subconsciously gravitating towards Harry? Was it him wondering where did he go if his whereabouts were not exactly clear for as little as a second? Was it waking up to check if he was breathing if, on rare occasion, he wasn’t snoring? If those things were love than Louis was fucked.

When did it happen?

This was a mystery as well. Was it when he started looking forward to their post-coital cuddles and conversations more than to the actual act of having sex? Was it when the morning kisses from disgusting turned sweet? Was it when he stopped chasing his own pleasure and deemed giving himself to Harry far more rewarding?

He didn’t know, but somewhere between all those things something had clearly changed and he could not, in right mind, deny it. As it seemed, he was the only one with this outlook on the situation.

The only thing sadder than his current situation, unrequited love doomed to remain just a summer fling, was the fact that the feelings Louis so obviously developed, stronger than any he ever felt towards someone, clashed with Harry’s idea of this whole thing being just a step up from masturbation.

He couldn’t claim this was the first time he realized that perhaps he was getting a bit too into it, no. He had the idea that it was more than sex for a while. Maybe from the very beginning… he was more or less aware of the infatuation with the man, but apparently he underestimated the severity of what it was that he felt.

Right then, it didn’t really matter. Not when it clearly showed that his outlook wasn’t shared, Anne’s heartless children bonding over the mutual hate for rom com cliches that Louis just realised he was. Oh well…

He might have made that up, but he was convinced he caught Anne’s eyes once the woman stopped entertaining her daughter’s childish staring contest. No, he was sure he saw her, but the concern in her pupils was something he was unsure of. Best case scenario, he was a fucking loony, worst one- Anne was more aware of the way Louis always seemed to gravitate towards her son than said son.

It didn’t  _ really  _ matter though. If she looked at him just to check, it was a perfect moment. All the guards Louis fought so hard to let down around the bunch he previously felt so comfortable around, were now back to erect, tall and strong, penetrable by none.

The mood was spoiled, at least his was, so there really was no way to linger in the living room, exposing himself to more of these  _ looks  _ that the hostess was giving him. Harry’s silhouette collapsed when, without a warning, Lou got up and wordlessly dragged his feet to the bathroom, half actually using the lavatory, half moping about the misery he found himself in mere minutes ago.

There was a pit stop when he left, in the kitchen. Not caring all that much, he let himself into the bottle of wine that stood in the fridge, pouring like a half of what was left into his mouth from a small distance, apparently still caring enough not to smear his spit all around the rim. It didn’t bring the colour to his pale and dead little heart as much as it did to his cheeks that quickly became hot, more from the thrill of the crime than alcohol, the wine not yet settled fully in his stomach.

And maybe he hoped Gemma would be blamed for emptying the bottle. Frankly, he didn’t care much if she doesn’t and his sprouting alcoholic tendencies are exposed.

Wearing faux composition on his face, indifference the most he could force, he re-entered the living room, finding it just like he left it. “It’s time for me.” He whispers into Harry’s ear from behind the couch the brunette was still occupying. The hands he set on his friend’s shoulders were a mistake, the skin he touched burning like hot iron. That’s when Harry straightened, scrambling for his phone that got lost somewhere between the pillows. “Stay.” He squeezed the man’s shoulders just slightly, watching as his words hit a brick wall, Harry still patting the couch. “You’re having fun.”

Let’s just say that it was the second reason why he wanted his friend to stay.

“Nonsense.” Styles muttered, finally uncovering his device right in the corner of the couch…  _ Right,  _ Louis was playing with it before he apparently dropped straight to hell. It was probably his punishment for being so sure he could just strut into a church on Saturday without any consequences. “See you tomorrow, yeah?” He addressed the room. 

“Thank you for having me.” For the first time ever Louis acknowledged his outsider status.

Just as if she could read his thoughts, Anne got up from her chair, and approached the teen, setting her delicate hands right where Lou’s shoulders shot into arms. “You’re one of us, silly.” She sent him a smile that was lovely and polite, at least on the surface, but there was something Lou didn’t care to decipher buried underneath the noncommittal pleasantries. Her hands slid down the boy’s arms until she caught his hands in her own, staring down at the mess his nails were… It was safe to say that putting a second layer of nail polish over the worn one was not the best way of maintaining a manicure, the tips of his fingers grayish blue, chipped, and clumsily painted. “We’ve gotta make these look stunning for Saturday.” She cemented the plans of a manicure that she forced onto him when he finally dared to ask for something to remove the varnish.

God, this woman was too good for him.

“Naturally.” He smiled at her, and he didn’t even find himself struggling so much to do that. “And I’ll do yours.” A joke! Who would’ve thought.

She looked down again, Louis’ eyes following hers to the freshly manicured hands that clutched his, thumbs rubbing embarrassingly rough skin of his palms in affection. “These don’t match my dress anyway.”

They laughed for a second, bubbly and distanced from whatever mischief the Styles siblings were engaging in, their voices a faint echo somewhere behind Louis.  _ Fuck _ . Not only he apparently loved Harry, but he absolutely adored his mother as well.

Somehow it felt like he would be better off laying his heart in Anne’s hands. She surely would handle his feelings with more tact, even if she didn’t reciprocate them. Harry had no excuse for not noticing, he really did not.

-

“I feel like I’m stealing from you.” The remark hung above the table the two of them were sitting at, Louis’ eyes focused on the nails he just watched dry. Edgy and elegant black felt appropriate for the mood he left last night in, the same one he carried back into the house upon arrival. “These would be like solid thirty in Manhattan.”

“Going to manicures much?” She chimed in nonchalantly, packing her supplies back into a small-ish, decoupaged chest.

“Define  _ much. _ ” The joke settled lightly on their shoulders. He didn’t, not  _ much _ … at least he thought that he didn't. “A guy needs to take care of himself, does he?”

“Of course.”

“Nothing degrading in a mani pedi here and there.” He chuckled, carefully picking up a glass of cola not to mess up Anne’s effort, taking a small sip. “Don’t tell your son I said that.” A wink was what he settled on. “I can see him disagreeing with that.”

And…  _ shit. _ He really couldn't go a minute without mentioning him, could he?

“He wouldn’t.” Anne’s smile was more a press of her rosy lips, the chair scuffing the floor as she got up to return her box to its place on the shelf of her trinkets that she seemed to collect with passion.

Honestly? Louis didn’t really care for talking about Harry right now, gave him a bit of a quarantine, isolating every thought associated with him in a box somewhere in the very back of his head.

And yet, his fists were pounding on the walls he was confined in, the thuds breaking through the barrier and rendering the whole plan useless.

So, he thanked Anne and chatted with her until she excused herself with a haircut she was asked to give a neighbour.

Strangely not excited about watching Styles hard at work, with Gemma gone with her school friends, there was nothing else for him to do but to get back to the farm. He grabbed ‘his’ bike from the bed of a truck which horrendous screeching returned far quicker than he would predict it to, even more abrasive after two days of being devoid of it, and drove away without as little as a word of notice.

For once, he was excited about solitude, thrilled to see the horses again and hug them like he would hug Harry if only he wasn’t still displeased with the comment he somehow felt was directed at him when it wasn’t.


	22. Chapter 22

“Strangely posh for you bumpkins.” The tease hung in the air when they descended the wooden stairs to the garden that was at least a million times bigger than Anne’s was. Not really, of course, but he always took liking in exaggerating things.

Just like when he claimed he _loved_ Harry, remember that? What the fuck was that about? He almost chuckled as his foot touched the grass, how very foolish of him, having a whole-ass toddler tantrum because sometimes he liked to be overdramatic.

“It’s the good side of the family.” Harry whispered near his ear, a breathy chuckle not as little as twitching the meticulously styled hair of a boy who didn’t belong in the crowd of strangers. “We’re on our best behaviour tonight.” A wink was sent his way, a hand gently resting against the small of his back. There was no reasonable alternative to accepting being dominated like that and obeying Harry’s silent directions, Styles apparently aware of the general direction in which they should head.

“ _Always_.” Louis stressed. Back straight as if he was standing against a wall, head completely level, neither too low nor too high, he felt in his element almost. “This is what Louis Tomlinson was raised to do.” A bitter memory quirked his lip for a bizarre reason he didn’t understand. “Smile, kiss ass and pretend that he, _god forbid_ , doesn’t hate his father.” There they were, Harry was right. It rarely happened that he wasn’t.

Settled delicately above a set of rather simple, yet elegant tableware in the faintest shade of ebony that, due to overcast sky looked almost nauseatingly grey, was a piece of cardstock with an overly pretentious, curly _Harry Styles_ printed on it just below a pair of barely noticeable doves embossed into the place card.

Next to it, to the left of Harry’s seat, was a similar ensemble. However, instead of a similarly elegant card with his name on it, was a piece of something that aspired to be as thick and royal as the cardstock Harry now held in his fingers. Clunky, clumsy excuse of the font rest of the place cards was adorned with, spelled _Louis Tomlison._

He could only laugh. “Who would’ve thought it took so little to escape the curse of my family name.” A smile eased itself on his lips as he passed his card to Harry who just pushed the chair Tomlinson settled himself in, the brunette hiding the pieces of paper into the pocket of the jacket he lost immediately and hung on the back of his own chair, sitting in it soon enough.

“Short notice.” He explained the mistake, looking over the table at the heads of the guests that started getting comfortable around the table. “I thought the wrath of the big chief above has fallen on you in the church. Was worried I would have to be here all alone. Stranded.” The voice was soft against Lou’s ear, and the closeness wasn’t even suspicious you see… the setting favoured secrecy.

It didn’t look like a table people were meant to eat at, have fun at. It was a business dinner table, not a family gathering table. On the other hand, what the hell did he know about family in the first place?

Now that he thought about it… he could imagine this being Tomlinson’s family table hadn’t all of them been either dead or estranged.

He kicked Harry’s leg under the table, because he could just do that. They had a deal that his embarrassing coughing fit wouldn’t be acknowledged… ever. But then, he had an idea that coughing was better than cackling, so he concealed his amusement with a fist pressed to his lips, coughing whenever he just couldn’t quietly sit through the ridiculous words uttered by the priest.

“I was laughing.” He insisted once more, Harry unconvinced, measuring him with his gaze. “I can hardly see you stranded around here.”

“But it wouldn’t be _fun_ without you.”

“Fun? This is fun to you?” Eyes narrowed, he mocked his friend, getting a roll of green eyes in response. “You wouldn’t handle me at my best.”

“I thought this was your best.” Sweet sincerity tingled the outline of the earlobe this concealed compliment settled on. Louis was proud of himself. He looked rather adequate considering the circumstances. He did not exactly expect attending formal parties like this one.

Almost as if offended to be assumed so… _boring_ , he sighed. “Hardly.” Because really, he had fucking jeans on. _Jeans._

Sure, it was not his ordinary pair of Levi’s and it was both good and bad because now, with this simple pair of jet black denims that in certain angles didn’t even look like jeans, his outfit danced somewhere on the very border of what was appropriate and what was not. However, if he was wearing his washed-out pair of ripped jeans with permanent creases where he was rolling them at his ankles… his ass would probably send all the ladies drooling, and give each and every man an identity crisis. What could he say? He looked spectacular in these fuckers, and he felt like he was being humble.

To top that off, was a simple off-white button-up that, as Harry reassured him countless times, then engaging his mother for a second opinion- covered his nipples just well enough, and nobody could see them. It was casual, but just posh enough to spare him outraged looks, a pair of loafers that looked like bootleg Gucci, something that Anne in her motherly sentiment apparently saved from where her son was thirteen or fourteen maybe, provided just enough elegance to deem him worthy of the company of all those dignified people.

He was rather fine with how he looked, taking a few spins in front of the mirror, leaving the very top button open so he didn’t look like he tried too much (which he _obviously_ did, but shush). He even gave himself cheesy thumbs up in the mirror, a cheeky wink to acknowledge that he would get laid like crazy if it was a different occasion. Bootleg Gucci and all.

But then there was Harry, and it didn’t even feel like he could breathe when he saw him. Respiration a concept suddenly impossible to grasp.

It was a simple, black suit, fitted perfectly to his silhouette, expensive in its looks and probably nothing else. Harry looked confident and imposing when they’ve stepped into the church; tall, slender and elegant like a champagne flute, this manner very uncharacteristic to him, which showed as soon as he opened his mouth- cheery, lame jokes and not at _fucking_ all intimidating.

His shirt was an exact copy of the one Louis was wearing, although it was the purest shade of white, unblemished, crisp and somehow almost cold, elegant which was sort of a theme. The polished, black surface of his oxford shoes blinded Louis when he first laid his eyes on the pair, a slate of just… nothing, black.

Louis was in awe because it was not even Harry that he saw before the mirror, giving himself only a quick once over, and that’s about when he lost interest in his appearance. Because it was Harry, all along. Different, yes- poised, tall and staggering, almost intimidating in an inexplicable way, but _Harry._

Harry whom Louis wouldn’t even dare to look at if he saw him clubbing, or at a fancy party where he belonged more now… not worthy of acknowledgment of those sparkly, green eyes that looked at life with so much joy, it spread all around him, influencing the crowds that just _loved_ him, _adored_ him, and craved his attention.

Nearly as much as Louis… _nearly._ Because he doubted anybody else looked at him with the eyes he looked at him. With eyes of the fool that was still so fucking _in love_ it physically hurt to lie that he was not, if only to himself.

“What’s your best, then?” The inquiry lingered for a bit, Louis still preoccupied with twisting a tassel of Harry’s bolo tie around his finger, disturbing the golden tip of the tie with his fingerprints. Will somebody notice? Likely not. But there’s a chance that they will, and they’ll wonder whose fingerprints were dulling the metal's shine. Were they Harry’s? Someone else’s? Surely, it must be someone important then, granted clearance to absentmindedly toy with the string like that… Louis liked it, and hated it at the same time.

He was hurting himself with visions bordering on delusions, but he couldn’t help but dive deep into it, feeling the satisfaction from the look he caught an anonymous woman giving them from a few places to the right. Because as innocent as it was, Lou’s finger messing with a dangly string like a cat or a hyperactive child would, it was intimate in the sense that it didn’t seem like Harry even took notice of people arriving at their sides, Anne looking at them curiously across the table, Gemma not yet there, busy with duties of a photographer whom she volunteered to be for the evening.

It was both painful and exhilarating, Louis speeding in his metaphorical car, straight towards the cliff. Pedal to the floor, no second one to give him even a chance of saving himself, and he… _didn’t care._ The very heart that thumped in his chest with every smile thrown at him by Harry, was set to break, and he had measly two weeks before the disaster was bound to happen. It wasn’t a hard choice he had to make, far easier than it probably should have been when he decided that whatever scraps Harry… this foolishly oblivious, and unintentionally cruel Harry was willing to throw him, were worth the suffering he already felt budding deep in his chest.

Delusion- that’s what most likely led him to that particular claim. A feeling of heartbreak was something distant to him, strange, almost fantastical at this point in his life. With that, he really couldn’t be certain of anything at all, but the fact that this was going to hurt like a bitch, and yet he practically handed himself on a silver platter, willing and vulnerable, ready to suffer for… _anything_. How did he know? How could he be so sure it wasn’t a simple crush, a casual infatuation? Because he was already hurting, for a while now. His little heart shrivelling even more with every excuse why exactly Harry couldn’t leave, and see what the world has to offer… _with him_.

He asked repeatedly, and there was always an off-handed joke in response, as if he wasn’t serious, as if it didn’t kill him not to hear the word _yes._ The realization hit too late, that’s for sure. It never really was what Harry thought it was, not on Louis’ side, and had he realized earlier… he would have a bit more time to enjoy the feeling that despite being bitter and exhausting- loving somebody that doesn’t even take you seriously enough to answer a goddamned question- was more vital to Lou’s life than it was reasonable. A driving force of sorts, a fuel that let his heart beat so hard he was scared to cause a fucking earthquake whenever he woke up at night to see Harry by his side.

All he could do was suspect that his slacking towards the realisation could have been blamed on the cover of pure joy, one that dimmed the pain with the thought of the days he had left with Harry. But now… with the days left together almost few enough to be counted on the fingers of his neatly manicured hands… the cover has worn off, leaving him with his moping and silent suffering that was a fraction of what he was bound to live through when everything is stripped away from him. He hated it, he wanted to weep his pain out, but couldn’t, Harry always lingering somewhere in the peripheral, ready to ask questions that would have to be left without answers because those answers were uncomfortable.

So, he put on a mask. If the pain wasn’t wearing one- he had to. Simple as that. Charming as never before, he still twisted the tassel, pulling on it just barely so Harry brings his ear to Lou’s lips. “Not much at all.” He whispered, quite proud to feel a shiver run through his friend’s body. “Just me and Armani, overly pretentious cologne and a fake smile that you wouldn’t recognize me with.” The purr ruffled Harry’s purposefully messy hair, the two rather reluctantly distancing themselves from each other, the effort it took visible in the languid movements.

“It’s not it.” Harry beamed, shaking his head just barely so. “I’ve seen it, and it’s not it.”

“If you say so.” Warm and cosy, Louis turned away, taking in the most pretentious of parties he attended in… _a while_ , long since stopped agreeing to pose as a happy heir of Tomlinson fortune whenever a label of a loving father suited Aaron Tomlinson… or rather his business partners. Would you look at that… family values so important for a bunch of executives with professional obligation to neglect their loved ones.

“She looks nice.” The bait was set, Lou’s eyebrow cocked up as he glanced at one of a few people he was familiar with before he started being introduced to the new faces- Amber. Why was she there? He wasn’t sure. Well… he was, now. Just when the thoughts of Harry’s only real relationship being some sort of twisted, incestuous mess started getting unbearable, he asked, hoping his interest doesn’t get mixed up with jealousy.

So, she was a friend of the mother, and everything was fine in the world after that was cleared up. Not really, but at least Lou didn’t have to ponder how Amber being some sort of cousin of Harry’s would influence the feelings he had for the guy. Probably not much, he could only imagine, and that’s as much of a confirmation he needed for sincerity of them.

A yawn stretched Harry’s mouth, a polite hand obstructing the view of his dental situation from the mingling guests. “I suppose.” The shrug of his shoulders didn’t exactly scream flattery towards the girl if Louis was the judge. So, he was satisfied, following his friend like a shadow to wherever it was that he was headed. It didn’t matter much.

A swarm of more or less close relatives was introduced to Louis who politely nodded his head at the ladies and exchanged firm handshakes with gentlemen, before he got a chance to excuse himself for a moment. He needed air, and _yes_ , he knew how ridiculous that sounded when he was, well… _outside._

Looked like God was similarly excited about the new addition to his church as Louis was about the occasion. The skies above were grey and cloudy, wind colder than it should be in August, swaying his silhouette to one side whenever he didn’t care enough to battle it.

The stiff atmosphere was just starting to loosen when he made his escape, the chatter behind him louder, the laughter more offensive to the ear. If he could bear a cordial small talk with a stranger at the side of a man who carried the chats like he was born to do just that, he was all but interested in entertaining the guests with his questionable social skill all alone when Harry was summoned to take some pictures with the baby and the godmother. And who would that be? Amber, _of course._

There’s only so much involvement an infant can have in a party, even one thrown for said baby, hence, whenever Harry’s goddaughter stirred out of her slumber for as little as a second, everybody rushed to coo at the baby, pinch its cheeks and take picture of and with it, even if there was really not much reason for a whole photoshoot with a random uncle the child was most likely going to see next on a funeral in fifteen years, maybe not that.

It was safe to say that Louis was having none of that, happily distancing himself whenever both godparents started fighting about who gets to feed the kid, rock it in their arms. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised to see the two arguing who gets to change a fucking diaper which… _no,_ thank you very much.

Fortunately for him, due to Harry’s effortless ability to always be the better person, the two of them rarely found themselves in a company of the baby, which was rather convenient for Louis who lacked the mental capacity to deal with the drama around TWO babies, the other one he had to take care of- his goddamn self- was enough as it is.

The entire body of a teen sitting on a small pier built on a pond that- at least partially- belonged to the hosts, jumped when the construction shook with a heavy step. And of course, he could guess who it was, it’s not like anybody else was particularly interested in his company.

His suspicion proved to be correct when he felt fingers gently dragging over the skin at the nape of his neck, Lou’s head dropped as he stared off in the distance, thinking his thoughts that lately only chanted Harry’s name on an exhausting loop.

Unsure of how visible they were at the moment, he didn’t reach to touch him, even if his skin felt like it might burn if he didn't.

“It’s raining.” The rasp informed casually, Lou’s eyes navigating to the slate of water he didn’t focus on too much. It was raining, just barely, but it was. “Hell of a day for a party.” He laughed. “Just Styles’ luck.” Two fingers retracted, and there was only one left. “No, scrap that, it doesn’t make sense.” It didn’t, not with this being Anne’s side of the family.

“It’s nice.” Was he commenting on the weather? The touch? Maybe both, he was unsure. “How’s the baby?”

There was a small chuckle behind his head, a sweet sound he felt like it was possible to drown in just like in the pond stretching before his eyes. "Well, that's precisely what I've come to get an update on." He chimed in conversationally. "How _is_ the baby?" He asked, the smile pretty much audible in his words. 

Louis smiled, something warm blossoming in his chest in traction to being addressed like that. "Hilarious." He scoffed, forcing the attitude, still relishing in the touch on his skin. 

Harry laughed. “She's asleep, _naturally._ ” No surprise there, huh? “Come on, up.”

Taking advantage of the hand that was offered to aid him in getting up, he did just that, having spent way too much time doing his hair to let rain ruin it, didn’t matter how insignificant it seemed, the tiniest of droplets crashing into everything and everyone. “And yet when I doze off at my party, it’s suddenly a big deal.”

“I hate double standards.” Louis almost scolded himself for letting his eyes linger on the sight, one that distracted him from the smile that he could’ve seen if he wasn’t so preoccupied with insignificant things. “Give me your hand.” No authority whatsoever in that order, Louis turned to measure his friend with curious eyes, clearly having misunderstood the situation because now he was offered a jacket, not a hand that he would probably like way better. “You’ve got goosebumps all over you.”

“Now you’re going to be cold.” Nevertheless, Louis eased himself into the suit jacket that fit him perfectly despite being a few sizes too big on him, swallowing his palms whole. “Which isn’t exactly fair since it’s me who underdressed.” The argument was made for the sake of… what exactly? It was really quite clear that he wasn’t going to give it back, nor was Styles suddenly going to change his mind, so… keeping a conversation, he guessed.

“You know me long enough to know that I _never_ get cold.”

“A Styles thing?” The teen saw the opportunity and took it, the two of them already making it towards the tent shielding the tables from the rain everybody apparently could see coming with an exception of Louis. He wasn’t from there, okay? “No…” A soft hum slipped past his lips, the two of them somewhere in the middle of their journey to the tables. “A Harry thing.”

“A Harry thing.” Styles confirmed softly, his chest fluttering in a chuckle that died down just when they entered the crowded area where people hid from the weather.

If it was even a possible scenario, the sky became even greyer around the time the smaller hand of Harry’s watch surpassed six in the evening, a party in full swing by this time. The conversations were louder, guests stripped off the initial layer of faux pretentiousness, comfortable having their crude chats without concern for children that were simply not a part of that particular event- thank god.

It was raining again, on and off for the bigger part of the gathering, a gentle pitter-patter of the droplets on a stretch of white, waterproofed fabric draped above their heads, provided a great background to pleasant conversations and binge eating. The weather favoured drinking, and that’s precisely what everybody seemed to be doing, poor designated drivers with their sour faces, gazing intently on crystal glasses- always on the verge of being empty.

Louis traced a tip of his index finger around the circumference of his thick-rimmed glass that he just emptied, sweeping the last of the salt crystals as he went, absentmindedly sucking the salt off his finger before he reached for Harry’s glass, eager to drink, but not to go fetch himself another round.

“You’re going to hate it.” Harry warned when he noticed his friend drawing a careful sip, the appearance of the dark liquid not filling Louis with much hope. Correct, his whole face scrunched with disgust as he struggled to get the sip down. “Told you so.”

“Why do you just hate yourself?” The repulsion animated the boy who, for the past half an hour, sat quietly in his seat, toying with his food more than actually eating it. “There’s fruit, there’s sugar, and you choose to drink fucking gasoline.” That was a guess- no, Louis did not know how gasoline tasted.

“I like it.” That was a lie, and Lou knew that. Nobody in the world could possibly enjoy that bitter garbage. “You’re good?” The man inquired, apparently noticing the distant look on his friend’s face. What Louis didn’t know, was that it was long since Harry sensed that something was off, maybe he just waited for the boy to come clean about what’s been bugging him on his own terms.

“Always.” Just to distract his friend from the pensive look on his face, he reached for a fork with a piece of fish stabbed onto it, taking a bite. “These are cool.” The most random topic was brought into the conversation, Louis suddenly sparking with energy, marvelling over a piece of cutlery he was utilizing rather scarcely that evening.

It wasn’t even a lie, he really liked the set, to the point where he contemplated whether his borderline non-existent relationship with the hosts allowed a question about where they got it. He felt like he could use something fancy in his College apartment. There was not even a reason why he liked them that much, not at all. Louis- all clean-lines and modern décor, now stared at a piece of fucking silverware (was he sixty years old? Apparently), riddled with the tiniest of sparrows perched atop of what seemed to be a slim crown of some tree, though even the hours spent with Harry in various forests haven’t brought him any closer to identifying the microscopic leaves.

Even the fact that he surveyed the sculpture of the handles was enough of a giveaway that he liked them a bit too much, never really paying attention to stuff like that because, well… he was _normal,_ at least before he was sent off to a survival camp that evidently fucked with his head more than he ever expected it would.

“Are they really?” The level of Harry’s interest showed with how lazily his head turned to face Louis, quickly moving to eyeing a plate of finger food, with a furrow in his eyebrows assessing whether his stomach could handle another one, and that spoke volumes about how much food he consumed that evening, contrary to his pal. “All I remember is them being a horrible nuisance when grandma passed away.” Still, he reached for a spoon, dragging the tip of his finger over the design. “I guess they’re nice, though I’m emotionally scarred by a vision of my family falling apart because of a set of fucking cutlery.”

“That sounds extreme.”

“Now you say that.” He laughed for maybe a millionth time that evening, tossing the spoon back onto the table. “I thought they were going to get Judge Judy involved.”

“But they came around?” Obviously, the answer was positive. Fucking _duh_.

Maybe he was distracted a bit, and it was completely Harry’s fault. More his hand’s that somehow fell into Lou’s lap, gently squeezing the muscle in secret. “Can I do this?” He glanced down for a split second. “So I don’t eat anymore.”

“You can.” At this point, Louis was sure he would let himself get punched if Harry’s eyelashes fluttered so sweetly when he asked.

“Yes, they came around.” The conversation went back on the original track. “Mom agreed to let them go for the china.” His eyes drifted to the side, catching his mother’s gaze over the table, Anne seemingly conscious enough to catch her son speaking about her, but there was no way she could pick up the rest of the story, the two of them keeping to themselves. “They’re not only pretty, but also heirloom, you know?” Of course, he didn’t. “My grandmother’s parents… or maybe grandparents, doesn’t really matter…” A furrow entered his eyebrows as he tried to recall the family lore. “They got them as a wedding gift.” He proceeded to explain the background of a cutlery set that probably never was given this much attention over the course of its existence. “Handcrafted, survived both wars in France. There's not other one like this set.”

“You’ve got French blood in you now?” Amused, Louis inquired, warm and bubbly with alcohol pumping through his veins, still clad in the very jacket he borrowed what felt like ages ago.

“Like a drop of it maybe.” Harry shrugged, with straight face taking the last sip of his godawful drink. “I have a feeling that the history of these hasn’t mattered remotely as much as having a reason for a bit of a fight.”

“I wouldn’t consider Anne a feisty type.” The corners of his lips pulled up when he glanced at the friend sat across the table, the woman fully devoted to a conversation with a cousin of hers- if Louis remembered the man correctly.

“You would be surprised.” Harry was already making it out of his chair, both of their glasses in a palm of his hand. “Stay, I’ll be back in a minute.” This was enough for Lou’s body to settle back in his chair. He could go a minute without him.

On one hand, the minute stretched to preposterous size, Louis bored out of his mind, people watching, his eyes stuck to Anne who still entertained her relatives with a chat. On the other, he barely lost Harry while he was walking him to the bar with his eyes only, and the man was already back at his side, a glass of something pink submitted for approval of a boy who took a sip and nodded, licking his lips to taste the salt his paloma was garnished with.

“She did get that counsellor fired after all.” The brunette chimed in when he caught his friend observing his mother. “She’s got fire in her. Unfortunately, I’m a quintessential pushover, which doesn’t really make sense with either of my parents.”

“There’s a difference between fighting for your kid, and a piece of silverware.” Louis noted to bring that pushover thing to light when he’s done with this. “As nice as these are. I don’t think this food would’ve tasted nearly as good without them.”

“Perhaps.” The indifference towards the topic of their overly long discussion was showed in a shrug of his broad shoulders. “Though I can’t say that I see the appeal.”

And suddenly, there were too many people around them, a group of individuals whom Louis didn’t recall, approaching Harry to greet the man who was just as popular with family as he was with his neighbours.

As much as Louis enjoyed the evening of being paraded like a piece of arm candy, loving every single grin that slipped on Harry’s face when he introduced Louis Tomlinson, his _friend_ to people who soon started to blur into a collective unit with one face, he needed a break before he suffered permanent damage with how couple-y it all felt, the worst thing- he didn’t mind it one bit, though that was a bit of an understatement.

“Don’t be cruel.” Gemma shook her head in disapproval, Harry’s laughter booming all around the group Louis found himself being a part of- Harry, Gemma, Amber plus a handful of Styles’ cousins that wanted to catch up with the family, Louis being the odd one out, but it didn’t matter much.

He could only watch, observing the dynamic between the Styles siblings and their cousins… _No_ , they weren’t _technically_ cousins, if Louis remembered correctly, or were, but the line of kinship was very long and wavy… He wasn't sure. The conversation didn’t follow any actual pattern, just a casual chat and a whole bunch of inside jokes Louis was not a part of, a nervous chuckle leaving his throat every time it was expected to laugh even though he was clueless what he was laughing about. It didn’t really matter, it’s not like anybody paid attention to him either way.

No, that was a lie. Harry seemed to, like he did the entire evening.

Louis didn’t expect him to, after all it was a big day for him as well, but he did, in fact, pay attention to him. His hand was always there, not quite touching him for the most part, but at all times hovering somewhere behind his back, around his waist… it was _there_ , that was the point.

It was also rare that he disappeared without a word, which was a common theme when it came to Albert’s birthday party just a few weeks prior, one that Lou did not appreciate one bit. He still had to conduct some godfather business- posing for pictures, cooing at the baby or just mingling with people, but it was really quite obvious that he would skip on most of those things if he had a choice.

But he didn’t, and it was not that big of a deal. They still had plenty of time for each other, they could _surely_ sacrifice one Saturday, right?

_No, not at fucking all._

So, with that, Louis was content with this, watching Harry in a social situation, mildly amused, was still better than being abandoned at the farm or whatever Styles’ initial plan was.

The conversation stretched and stretched, the sun mostly gone from the sky. He was happy when people started leaving their circle, giving the teen hopes for wrapping this whole thing up so he could go back and exploit the fact that the bartender did not care enough to check his ID.

It did not last long though. Much to his disappointment, their group must have looked real inviting at the moment, more people joining to replace those departed, delaying Lou’s plan rather significantly.

And then… it was not boring anymore. Far from that, the teen’s inner drama queen perking right up at the yelling that broke out unexpectedly merely a few feet from where they were standing.

If Tomlinson thought that a grandpa with no regards to the concept of racism and an aunt that overindulges in wine in order to fill a void caused by not having orgasmed throughout the course of her marriage was already enough to deem this initially posh atmosphere a complete sham- it took two rowdy uncles whose mild political disagreement escalated to a fistfight filled with sweat, testosterone and moustache, to entertain Louis perhaps the first time at this lame party… at least the first one without Harry’s involvement.

But involved, he quickly got.

Rushing towards the epicentre of the disagreement without a trace of hesitancy, he helped a son of one of those men in separating the two aggressors like it was his job to do.

His arms were strong to the point where Louis could see the bigger, redder uncle struggling to oppose the sure grip Styles had on his shoulders, mumbling something Lou couldn’t hear from the distance while the wives cried their useless ‘no’s, and ‘stop’s. There was no way Harry’s still face would help the frail masculinity of whoever it was that he was holding back, so it was really rather convenient that the man was not able to see the expression.

It was not like any of the things you may see in a movie. The display was rather pathetic. The fists were flying, swinging in the air because there was never any chance they would be able to reach. Two young men fully dominated the rowdy guys, holding them back, letting them catch a breath and calm down.

How unnecessary was this? How fun though… Louis was rather guilty to admit he found this amusing, at least to some extent.

Every single body on the lawn stayed put, suspended, wondering whether the fight was over or there was more to come.

If Louis was the judge, he would call it about there, only _a bit_ disappointed with how short the whole debacle lasted.

There was still a bit of a struggle, fervent jerking of the shoulders when the uncles tried to break away, the one Harry was holding, far more determined to go back to the _discussion_ than the other one, but nothing has ever come out of it.

Most of the emotions had already fizzled out, Harry still stayed put, just for good measure opposing every move of whoever the hell was the man he was securing- a heaving, red-faced guy on the verge of a cardiac arrest.

Louis wasn’t even sure if he was blinking, his eyes stuck to Harry’s frowning face, void of reaction towards whatever it was that the _pupil_ of his was mumbling.

It remained just like that… _still._ Distressingly still even when you consider what happened next.

Somewhere between the smaller uncle being led out and Harry realizing that it was perhaps time to let go, the bigger one’s face got even redder- borderline purple when he looked over his shoulder, the most vicious of looks thrown at Harry, one that almost made Louis sick to his stomach.

_Almost._

What achieved just that though, were the first actual words Louis heard fall off the man’s lips. Maybe it was an exaggeration to even call those _words_ , a slurry, animalistic growl more like.

Whichever of the two it was, the content of the message remained the same regardless, and it sent a cold chill down Lou’s spine when the sound waves carried to his ears.

He felt his heart sink, mouth going dry the very moment it got to him what actually happened. It was not something he expected, not even in the midst of a violent outburst, but it happened. It _actually_ happened, and Louis was ready to throw hands the very second the most vile words were directed at his friend.

“Get your fucking hands off me, _faggot_.” It was like slow motion, like Louis was not even there at all, but at the same time… he was there, far too conscious of what he just heard.

Just as if he was drenched in acid and _then_ set on fire, a wave of something so… he couldn’t even describe it... whatever it was, it spilt over his whole body, one that jerked back to life the second he chanced a look at Harry’s face.

He looked _flabbergasted_ … for a quick second only, not enough for anybody to notice if they weren’t looking for a reaction, going back to his staple composure in a blink of an eye. 

There was an attempt to take a step, one that Anne, who solidified right next to Louis, put to rest with a hand she placed on the teen’s stomach, steadying the boy who was ready to do… _something_. He wasn’t thinking straight at all, but he couldn’t just stand there and do nothing, could he? Not when that was precisely what everybody else was doing.

See… he’s heard it all. He’s been through the faggots, fairies, queens… anything really. Not once it was quite this jarring as seeing Harry be addressed like that. By a member of his fucking family!

It was only the respect he had for Anne, and the fact that there was no way he wouldn’t end up being pulled away by Harry before he had a chance to throw a punch, that kept him in place, thunders thrown at the bastard who right about then was already disappearing somewhere in the distance, followed by his wife.

Next thing Louis knew, perhaps even blacking out for a second or two, was Harry slipping right where he was before the whole thing happened, a gentle tap of his finger on Lou’s elbow brought the boy back. To be completely fair, he wouldn’t hesitate believing that nothing happened at all, that he imagined the whole thing, and that was all because of Harry who stood next to him so expertly composed, it was almost distressing.

There was a chuckle that barely reached Louis’ ears, one that he shouldn’t have problems recognizing, and yet it felt weirdly alien when Harry laughed, raking spread fingers through his unruly hair, securing the strands back.

“And they say that blue and red don’t mix together well.” One more laugh, still so strangely cold, it ran a shiver down Lou’s spine. “They do make purple, which is precisely the colour Trevor’s eye is bound to adapt after that punch.” Tomlinson would have scoffed at that, mocked Harry, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about how cheesy it sounded. The nonchalant wave of Styles’ hand might have added fuel to that fire burning deep inside the boy’s gut. “You should probably check in on him, he got it pretty hard.”

With that, two of the few more or less anonymous members of their circle took off, nodding their heads to farewell the group. Apparently somebody was still concerned about the state of that waste of space just as Harry seemed to be, which… _no._

“I’m so sorry, Styles…” At last, a knight in a shining armour stepped in, and did bare minimum… _well,_ it was not this guy’s job to apologize, but at least that was a reaction, something not one person before has given. Nervously rubbing the back of his neck with a large palm, the guy gave Harry a quick once-over. “He’s had a few too many, you know how he is…” And he ruined it, the minimal effort it took to acknowledge the crime was trashed, and Louis was even more angry now… if it was possible.

The lanky redhead’s hand found its way onto Harry’s shoulder, flippantly comforting the guy who waved his hand dismissively. “Nonsense. Nothing happened.” Of course, that’s what he said. Throughout the entire course of the evening, not one thing infuriated Tomlinson as much as his very friend’s attitude about having a slur thrown at him.

“ _No._ ” He didn’t even plan on speaking, his voice uncharacteristically jarring in its high pitch, all of the eyes resting on his face since speaking was not exactly what he was doing lately. “This is not an excuse.” Suddenly intimidated with all the gazes set on him, Louis dropped his eyes to the ground, shoving fisted palms into the pockets of Harry’s jacket, fingernails digging into his skin. He had to say something eventually, it was quite obvious that people were waiting for him to do that. So, he had to man up. “ _You know how he is’_ does not work when there are kids killing themselves because of assholes like him.” Venom spilt off his lips.

The very same redhead knight stood there, brows furrowed with deep thought. He sighed, it wasn’t a mystery that he was over apologizing for his… whoever, Tomlinson was not sure about the line of kinship there. “He’s not…”

Unwilling to deal with this bullshit any further, Louis kicked the ground beneath his feet, getting ready to escape, not having any business staying in company of people who deemed this sort of behaviour acceptable. “He is.”

Apparently just as done with this quarrel with an argumentative kid that Louis felt like he came off as in the company, the redheaded relative started shaking hands of the people gathered in their circle.

Whether it was some weird sense of understanding between them, or genuine animosity, the guy consciously omitted Louis, whose hands, still fisted in the pockets, told everything about his attitude at the moment. “I’m sorry, guys…” The man muttered, looking at Harry who remained painfully blasé about the whole thing. “See you at thanksgiving?”

“Of course.” Harry was the last one to shake the hand of the guy who took off immediately after he was reassured that no permanent damage was done to their relationship.

And then there were… however many people remained, because Louis surely had not stayed. He threw a sorrowful look at Harry, and bounced. Fuck it all, he had no desire to stick around for any longer than that.

Nothing spoils a party quite like a casually thrown slur, so there was really no surprise that people started slowly trickling out of the garden until only the very bravest stayed seated at the table, screaming their insightful comments over the furniture.

That was where Harry was, at least the last time Louis saw him, long since left the company, only fetching himself refills of his drinks.

The sky already dark and ominous, he sat with a half-empty glass at the spot on a pier he claimed for himself. The lack of attention had an ambiguous effect on him. For some twisted reason, he was glad to be left alone, no actual logic behind him being mad at Harry, but that was the place he found himself in, so there really was not much he could do, right?

Maybe he was just mad at everything… that made more sense than having a bone to pick with Harry, who, in all of this, was the actual victim, a graceful one at that, not like his plus one who despite not even being the addressee of the insult, objectively, acted like a spoiled brat that he admittedly was.

Unsure of how much time his three full drinks have translated to, Louis looked over his shoulder to assess the situation at the tables and… _oh_ , it must’ve been some supernatural ability he acquired, his body somehow sensing Harry’s presence because when his eyes sought for the party, that was precisely who they fell onto, Styles standing at the very border between the grass and the pier Louis was sat on.

“Hey.” The brunette croaked, hands crossed on his chest, the position indicating that he must’ve been standing there for a minute or two. “You’ve disappeared in the darkness, thought you’ve drowned in the pond or something.” Smirking just barely so, he dared to approach, setting both of his hands on either of Lou’s shoulders.

Louis sighed, grazing his eyes over the calm slate of the pond. “The idea of disappearing often associates with a premise of not wanting to be found.”

“You know I can’t take a hint.” Well… _duh._ “Did you not want to be found then?”

Did he? He did not know. To some extent probably, but then, he was subconsciously waiting all this time to be approached. Don’t blame him, he was a mess even before they arrived, the drinks haven’t helped. “Maybe.” His shoulders shrugged and returned to the former slump, still bracketed by Styles’ fingers. “Not really…” Another exasperated sigh. “I’m mad at you, you know?” His own fingers clasped harder around the glass. “Mad at the world in which people let it be normal and expected.”

“I know you are.” So he _could_ take a hint! “I am sorry.”

At that, Louis scoffed, closing his eyes for a reason he wasn’t aware of. “You’re the last person obligated to apologize right now.” There was no chance his friend missed the mocking note in his words. “You’ve done nothing.”

“Isn’t that the whole point though?”

“Maybe.”

“They’re doing seconds of the cake.” The taller one announced, a smirk audible in his words. “I thought you’d be interested.”

And… _yeah_ , he was.

It did not take long for him to untangle his weak limbs from under himself. With a hand from Styles, he scrambled off the hard wood under him and stumbled just a bit before he started taking tentative steps towards the canopy. “Can I use your phone later?” The inquiry was rather weird since it was never necessary to ask permission, but it was not like they had anything to discuss at the moment, so he could fill the silence with at least that.

“Whenever.” Almost outraged, Harry shook his head. “It’s in the jacket.”

Louis knew, especially when he _almost_ drowned the damn thing when, still unaware that he was carrying the device, he leaned a bit too low towards the water, only god’s providence landing the phone on the very edge of the pier.

It seemed as though the cake was the official closer of the evening, fair enough, it was way too late to keep going, at least in Louis’ opinion.

Those two pieces of cake he ate on top of the initial one were still weighing on him both physically and mentally as he sat in a gazebo off to the side of the garden, looking out into the face of the moon reflecting in the calm slate of water. Long since the guests have left, it was peaceful and pleasant, a tremendous relief after the events of the day.

Being the ones who drove the farthest to attend the christening, Louis’ party was aware of the fact that they would be sleeping over in the host's house, although the boy himself couldn’t say he was thrilled about it… _Sure_ , the house itself was beautiful, at least the fraction he had a chance to see, and yet, all he wished was to curl up in the uncomfortable one he was assigned at Frank and Ada’s, didn’t even matter if Harry was included in this vision or not.

Some time had passed since he left the living room the family was hanging out in, excusing himself with a phone call he was planning to make… for almost a week. His procrastination had finally caught up to him, and now he just _had to_ call Isabella, he wasn’t going to risk it with how neglected the woman felt by him, probably rightfully so.

The thing was… he didn’t want to talk to her. Well, _no_ … on some level, he wished to do just that, knowing that if anybody was able to help him in the predicament he found himself in, it would be her. On the other hand, he felt absolutely pathetic with the fact that he even allowed himself to fall, so confessing that to anybody was the last thing he intended to do.

What he did not take into account, were the drinks he couldn’t count on the fingers of his one hand, sloshing away in his stomach, the consumed alcohol keeping his body warm enough for the temperature outside to be deemed insignificant.

Booze never had such an effect on him, not once in his life… and yet, there he was, tears welling in his eyes as he pressed Harry’s phone to his ear, the glass screen cold on his heated earlobe. It was late, probably too late to be calling somebody even if he was certain that Isabella was not asleep just yet, likely stuck working like she tended to.

He hesitated, pulling the phone away from his ear. He was just about to hit the red button, his state increasingly worse with every beep he heard from the speaker, but then, the beeps ended, and a very familiar voice added to the heap of things that got Louis just so utterly… _sensitive_. A single ‘halo?’ on the other side broke the dam, and sent the teen into a proper breakdown.

As clear-minded as the circumstances allowed, he pressed the pads of his fingers to where he knew the microphone was, trying to muffle the gut-wrenching sob that tore itself out of his throat without him realising the severity of what he was going through.

He tried not to acknowledge it- the turmoil he found himself in, the fact that ever since he realized that he actually loved Harry he couldn’t stop thinking about the approaching end, the farewell that made ripping his own heart out sound like a joyous event. It was too soon, and it was unexpected in that bizarre way how something with a clear date assigned to it could ever be unforeseen.

He was not ready, though he had a clear idea that he would never be, and even then, with Isabella repeating his name over and over again, he still had the goddamned thing stuck in his head on a loop.

“ _Louis_.” More insistent, she summoned the attention of a boy who still was unable to speak, sobbing uncontrollably, losing the ability to breathe in the process, only a fraction of the oxygen he needed swallowed between the sobs.

Having some rather questionable things on his record, one of which resulting in him being in the very situation he was now grieving, this was still the most pathetic he ever felt. He doubted it would be any better if he suffered on a more familiar territory, but that was what he was trying to convince himself, and for some reason it mattered a lot that he believed it. So, he let himself believe.

“Louis, baby…” If he was conscious enough, not busy with his own bullshit, he would’ve noticed how alarmed she sounded, and that was all his fault. On the other hand, maybe he did not need another reminder about how much he sucked. “Louis, are you okay?”

And he _tried_ , he really tried to speak, to say that he was fine, to lie… but all that came out was a pathetic whine of a man who was lost in the very mess he was responsible for.

“Louis, honey…” The woman cooed, the motherly note in her voice very familiar, soothing almost. “Breathe, baby. Are you breathing?” It was rather obvious that he was. Fine, heaving into the phone like a broken engine perhaps was not the most efficient form of _breathing_ , but it had to suffice, even if he was getting barely any air in the process.

So, he cried some more, knees curled to his chest as he swayed to the sides like a leaf in the wind, biting down on his bottom lip to ground himself somehow.

“What is wrong? Do you want me to come and get you? Baby, talk to me, _please_.” If the previous pleas were already distressed, now she was going insane, practically begging for any sign that Louis, a boy who might as well be her own son, was not in the process of dying.

The problem was… Louis didn’t know if he wasn’t. As stupid as it sounded, he couldn’t promise her that he wouldn’t die of a broken heart that now was beating fervently in his chest, a trapped hummingbird in his ribcage.

“I…” He _tried_ , knowing that he just had to say something because the threat of Isabella actually coming to retrieve him was way too real, the woman from the very beginning proposing that solution to the boy whom she offered to board at her home for the summer, insisting that Lou’s father would be none the wiser of their trickery. “I don’t want to go home…” He sounded truly desperate, which was not shocking in the slightest, that’s precisely how he felt.

“Why? What is happening?” Audibly soothed, Isabella pried for answers to so many questions that she already had.

The boy sobbed again, hand clutching on the phone he was holding, a rapid breath caught in between sobs. “I want to stay here.” He cried. “I need to stay here… _with him._ ”

If they were face-to-face, Louis was ready to bet money that he would see the crease in between her eyebrows. “You want to stay?” Surprise loud and clear in her voice. “Who do you want to stay with?”

If he thought he would be able to utter _his_ name without slipping back into the deepest of sorrows he ever felt… _no,_ that was not going to happen, some intelligible gibberish coming from the attempt. “I love him.” He muttered. “I love him so much.” Only when he said it, the true weight of that statement punched him straight in the gut. “I don’t want to go home, why can’t I just stay here?” The hysterical tone he adapted was something he was going to feel embarrassed for later.

Another fit of continuous sobbing broke out on Louis’ side, the boy trembling and swaying his body in a fixed motion, trying to soothe himself before he’s seen in that state.

“Breathe, baby…” Isabella instructed, a technique she always tried whenever her boy needed consolation. “One… Two… Count with me.”

He tried to and failed. “He doesn’t love me, Isabella. He does not.”

The confession settled heavy on the woman, a sigh indicative of that. “Don’t say that.”

“He doesn’t, he really does not.” Louis’ head shook if only to himself, just as if he was not aware. “But it doesn’t matter. I still want to stay and love him. Why can’t I just stay and love him?” The powerlessness was frustrating, his voice small, desperation heartbreaking.

“You can do whatever you want, baby.” Isabella reassured even if both of them knew her words didn't matter much. 

Tomlinson decided not to focus on the obvious lie. “But he doesn’t want me to stay, why would he?” His whisper barely a set of words, sobbing still audible over the line, quieter, softer. “I wish he let me stay so everything would be normal.”

“This is not normal, Louis.” Strangely stern, Isabella remarked. “Talk to me, what is happening?”

“I love him.” He simply answered.

“I know, baby.” A sigh made it through the line, a concerned one rather than annoyed. “Who is it that you love?”

Once again, the very attempt at saying the name, sent a wave of sobs through Lou’s trembling silhouette. “I don’t want to be without him.” He cried. “What’s wrong with me? How do I make him love me?”

“There is nothing wrong with you, honey.” She insisted firmly, whispering her staple ‘there, there’, something Louis was sure he would have brushing over his ear if they were closer, her arms wrapped around him. “Who is it that you are talking about?”

“Ha-“ Biting down on his tongue, he summoned pain to steady himself. “Harry. I love him so much.” Success, though it did not feel like one.

“ _Louis_.” Surprisingly back to that stern attitude, she demanded attention Louis wasn’t completely fit to give. “ _Harry_ … as in your boss Harry?” She questioned, clearly not happy with the revelation. “As in the man who is my age?”

“Yes.” He answered, and immediately heard her inhale sharply. “ _No…_ he’s not….” He wanted to clear the hesitation, but it was easier said than done. “I didn’t want you to know that we were… So I lied. But we were, and now I love him and I’m the fool, you know?” She didn't speak. “The fool that fell for him and I don’t want to go back, I can’t go to San Francisco. What do I do, Isabella? Dad is going to kill me…”

It took… _ages_ to get him to calm down. Even with that, using the word _calm_ to describe the state he was in when Isabella let him hang up was a huge overstatement in itself. He needed solid fifteen minutes of constant reassurance, motherly consolation to get him to stop sobbing, and he wasn’t even completely sure whether it was her who helped or just the physiology of his body that finally ran out of tears, but he was not crying anymore, just staring off into the darkness, teetering somewhere around the border of conscious and completely off.

His head was empty, just like he could imagine his eyes being, the talk with Isabella not yielding him any satisfactory conclusions. In all fairness… it was hard to work out solutions when one side of the ‘conversation’ is a weeping mess, unable to utter a word. So he made an idiot out of himself in front of Isabella, and still left with nothing. Terrific.

Out in the bushes, the crickets were trying to distract him from the mess that broke through the blankness in his head, flashes of consciousness overpowering the blissfull ignorance that made him almost numb.

He wasn’t sure what it was… After all, he’s been aware of his feelings for a few days already. Even if he tried to deny it, trick himself into believing that he was blowing the whole thing out of proportion, he knew better than to believe his own deceptions.

Because he felt it all before. He was in love, once or twice, at different stages of his life. Yet… not once he felt for somebody what he felt now. Maybe it was the booze talking, but now, at the moment, he wouldn’t hesitate erasing everything that he ever planned for himself and do… whatever, anything Harry wanted them to do was what Louis dreamt of.

A gentle breeze picked up, shuffling through the leaves that briefly overpowered the clinking of his teeth as his jaw quivered despite an earnest urging for it not to do that. Goosebumps rose on the nape of his neck as he sat there with knees cuddled to his chest, facing the pond that only added to the drama of his current situation.

Nibbling on the inside of his cheek, he knew well enough that he probably should get back inside, already having painted himself as a proper nutcase with his behaviour. When he caught the glance of it, the house was already mostly dark, only the dimmest of lights visible in a few of the upstairs windows, giving him an idea that the party officially came to an end.

That state of things became really quite obvious when he heard heavy steps behind himself, not chancing a look at the man whom he already identified by the way he walked… and the fact that there was literally one person that gave enough shit about Tomlinson to seek for him.

“It is very difficult to get ahold of you tonight.” Styles’ voice disturbed the peaceful tranquillity of the night. “Not something that I am used to with you.”

The chuckle that vibrated out of Harry’s throat once he stepped into the gazebo did not help Louis one bit, even if it probably would in any other situation. He didn’t dare to look at the brunette, knowing that he must’ve looked horrid, and not even the night enough to cover the shame on his face.

“You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” Lou’s silence was addressed, more steps audible until Harry just sat on the bench next to his friend, some distance still between them since Harry was unsure how big of a trouble he was in. With much delay, the teen’s head shook in denial, face down to the floor to hide it from his companion. “Why won’t you look at me then?”

And… _yeah_ , he looked, knowing that there was no chance he would get away without doing that. Harry’s confusion was evident the second he caught sight of the redness that bordered his friend’s eyes, the teen’s lips crimson red and bitten raw.

Properly frowning in reaction, Harry scrutinised his friend’s face carefully. “What’s wrong?” Facing away, Louis shrugged his shoulders flippantly, scared to say a word, his voice threatening to break as soon as used. “Were you crying?”

Squeezing his eyelids shut, incriminating himself even further, Louis was just about to deny the allegation when, instead of a simple ‘no’ he planned to respond with, another sob shook his whole body, the boy crumbling, so much more embarrassed now that he was doing it in front of the very man who caused him to feel like that.

His head was still shaking, denying the very thing he was now caught doing, when Harry, without a word, slid himself closer on the bench and wrapped both of his long arms around his friend, letting the boy have his moment.

How could anyone _not_ love him? Now, squeezed tight by those strong arms, Louis was sure he never loved Harry more, and he claimed the same thing quite often. He let himself cry, quietly sobbing into his companion’s chest, fumbling with his fingers as he held them in his lap.

“You’re alright.” Harry whispered into his friend’s hair, smoothing a hand over the boy’s head to soothe, even if he wasn’t completely sure what he was doing. “It’s going to be fine, breathe with me, okay?” His own breathing became exaggeratedly pronounced, chest inflating and emptying in a fixed tempo.

Surprisingly enough, it helped… at least more than Isabella’s desperate urging did anyways. It was a constant struggle to keep his breathing steady, ups and downs when he was just about to calm himself down, but then suddenly broke into hiccups and sobs for no particular reason whatsoever.

Harry’s shirt was properly drenched with tears by the point Louis stopped crying, now gripping the very shirt he was responsible for ruining, long arms still wrapped tightly around him. “That’s more like it.” The brunette chuckled, sweeping the last of the tears off Lou’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You want to walk for a bit? Calm down? Talk about it?”

Fingers clutched at the fabric even tighter, Louis shook his head in denial. As much as calming down was an enticing idea, the other two definitely were not. Frankly… he was exhausted. He wanted to go to sleep. That’s what he was more or less settled to do, straightening his back, giving his friend a cue to release him from the embrace, which was exactly what happened.

“Now that I look at you, we’ll probably be better off heading to bed, yeah?” Harry proposed, his smile dopey, the corners of his eyes pulled down with exhaustion. “This must’ve been the single worst movie in the history of time. It’s probably better you’ve left so soon, you would’ve hated it.” With the tips of his fingers, he reached to cup his friend’s jaw, pulling him closer to lay the purest of kisses on lips of a boy who just barely got over the little breakdown he suffered from just a few minutes before. “Although it does not really look like you’ve had much fun by yourself either.” He dared to chuckle, Louis disciplining him playfully with his gaze.

The teen just looked on for a beat or two, relishing in the feeling of a thumb gently rubbing his cheek in a gesture of affection, and maybe something like care, because that’s what Harry did… Harry cared that he wasn’t sad, oblivious that he was the single reason why those tears existed to begin with.

It was a second where he let his mind wander somewhere else, or more like lost control over his brain as he leaned into the touch on his skin and maybe he smiled, he wasn’t sure of that. Somewhere under those fingers, his brain decided to pull a trick on him. “I think I’m in love with you.” He whispered as if it took away from the severity of the confession.

Of course, he didn’t _think_ he was in love with him. He was absolutely, hopelessly in love with the man who just… stilled, his fingers ceasing to move, eyes stuck on an insignificant spot on the floor of the gazebo they were now sitting in. With this trace of hesitancy in his words however, he had a feeling that it would be easier to take it all back, claim it was the booze speaking for him or something. It wasn’t, he knew that, after all he was completely sober when he realized that he had feelings for the man, but now that he looked at Harry, all… paused, he could see himself recalling the whole thing soon enough.

The silence dragged for far too long, only the cicadas chirping in the weeds around the pond, frogs performing their mating songs as they sat there, motionless, almost breathless since Louis was pretty sure he couldn’t hear his companion breathing, which was why he barely inhaled himself.

Nothing in this reaction foreshadowed anything good for him, although not once since the realization hit, he had anything but negative predictions about how this whole thing would play out.

Well… no. There was never a plan of telling Harry about his feelings, all too embarrassing to come clean about that realization… But _yeah_ , he never had his expectations about this moment high, even if only subconsciously theorising _what if_.

As expected as it was… it still hurt when Harry wouldn’t speak, the seconds stretched to little eternities of holding his breath, swallowing a gulp of swampy air, and so on, a constant loop of waiting for… anything really, with every second becoming more desperate for a sign that he hasn’t somehow broken his friend with saying something that… let’s be real, should’ve been quite obvious at this point.

There was a heavy exhale to his side, something that might have been a reaction to the touch as Louis let himself reach his companion’s hand and hold it in his lap, but didn’t have to. “How long?” It was barely a whisper when Harry spoke, his fingers staying still even when the boy next to him fitted his own between those longer, slimmer ones he still held, despite being voicelessly rejected like that.

Now it was him who released a sigh, a smaller one, not nearly as tortured as the one before. “I’m… not sure.” He answered. “Probably longer than I realize.” At that, he swallowed around the obstruction in his throat, staring at his friend inquisitively, trying to gauge his reaction. It was hard to do that though… considering that there was not much of one at all.

“Okay.” There was a simple nod of his head as if he was just communicated the most mundane thing. He still hasn’t looked at Louis, just let the boy play with his fingers nervously. “Are you sure?” He asked into the night. “Of course you are, never mind. You wouldn’t say anything if…”

“I wouldn’t have said anything if you didn’t let me drink.” He _actually_ chuckled, even if still anxious and a caricature of his usual laughter, it was still something. “It’s just an unfortunate turn of events I suppose.”

“You don’t get to blame those drinks on me. No way.” Louis was pretty sure he hasn’t imagined the humorous note in Styles’ voice. “That’s all on you.” A shadow of a smirk flashed through his face.

Aware that there was no use dragging this section out, Louis gave up. “I’m sorry, you know?” He hoped he came off as sincere. “I didn’t…”

“Don’t apologize, that’s stupid.” Harry cut him off. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” At this, the fingers Louis still had in between his own clasped, their hands linked together in the teen’s lap. “It’s just… unexpected. And I’m not sober enough for this.” He laughed, getting rid of some of that horrid, grim atmosphere.

“Should’ve known better than to be nice to such a selfish idiot like me.” Louis played the ball Harry kicked to his pitch, trying to send that awful awkwardness away to the bottom of the pond so it never returns.

When the teen chanced a look at his friend’s face, there was a frown on it, one of not so many expressions Harry had in his usual repertoire. “Hey.” His tone was almost scolding, not something Louis expected before his questionable comedic endeavour. “Don’t say that.” The pad of his thumb rubbed the very top of Tomlinson’s palm.

Louis exhaled, some of the tension swept away with the light breeze. It was the worst possible moment to be quite honest, he did not have the brain capacity to deal with more emotions than he dealt with before he came clean about his naïve crush. “I don’t have to when you’ve said that yourself.” He’s not quite sure why he even said that, confrontation the last thing he actually needed. Seemed like his remark puzzled Harry quite a bit, confusion evident in his eyes. “When we were watching the movie. With Gemma and your mom.”

Harry’s frown deepened, barely any space between his dark eyebrows. It wasn’t hard to guess when the memory hit him, a sharp inhale announcing the exact moment. “That’s not what I’ve…”

Of course, Tomlinson wouldn’t let him finish. “It is.” He chimed in, sullen, face as if he just bit into a lemon. “Don’t take it back because I’m the idiot who fell in love.” The chuckle that concluded his words was clearly forced, the boy leaning away from his friend, letting go of the hand he held for a moment or two.

There was no mystery that Harry wasn’t completely comfortable in the situation, perhaps the most flustered Louis had ever seen him. Could anybody blame him? Louis surely did not. In his eyes, the brunette couldn’t have been any more composed and respectful. Hell, he knew dudes who would laugh in his face in a situation like this one… yep, that _might have_ happened to him in the past.

A moment passed, and then another before Harry decided to break his silence. “I’m not taking it back.” He announced, looking at his companion with something sad in his gaze. “I just… I guess I never thought of this like that.” The shrug of his shoulders did not fit the situation, but that’s what he did. “I mean like those fools in the movies.” He clarified. “But that’s the worst possible moment for this conversation.”

“Agreed.” Louis nodded, scuffing the planks beneath his feet just a little before he got up, still clutching Harry’s phone in one of his hands. “I better head to bed, it’s been quite a day.” The nonchalance in his attitude was not something he thought he could achieve, but it didn’t really take that much struggle to act flippant about the whole thing.

“ _Yeah_.” A sigh almost got lost in the ruffling of the oaks above the gazebo. “I think I’ll hang around for a bit. Get some air if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course.” What else was he supposed to say? That it was not completely okay with him? It wasn’t, but _please_.

The first step towards the house was barely taken when he heard Harry move. “Lou?” Summoned, he turned his head towards the brunette. “I really loved having you here today.” A smile bent his lips, the tiniest of dimples showing in his cheeks as he let himself reach for Tomlinson’s hand, just grazing it with his fingers to get his point across. “I’m not going to take long, I promise.”

Navigating through the house was not nearly as tricky as Louis suspected it would be, a bedroom-turned-office welcoming him with two inflatable mattresses taking up almost the entirety of the floor. If they were joking that they should just stack the two to save some space, now it was not entirely obvious how they would be sleeping that night.

Sure, nothing changed on Lou’s side, he doubted it would if Harry actually laughed him off. However, now that he was looking out of the bay window, his friend’s profile visible right where he was left, face held in flattened palms, he wasn’t sure what was happening in Harry’s head at the moment, and he hated himself for ruining the memory of this rather important day to his friend.

Not entirely excited to be alone with his thoughts and no distraction at all, he let himself linger in the bathroom where he was unnecessarily diligent with his shower, the entire enamel most likely stripped off his teeth as he sat on the counter, brushing them for solid ten minutes. There was no rational reason for him to spend forty minutes on his bedtime routine, but that was what he did.

Upon re-entering the place of his temporary dwelling, he was glad to see Harry there, all showered and tucked under the comforter on one of the mattresses. As awkward as he still felt, maybe more now that the water sobered him up a bit, solitude didn’t sound like great fun, at all. With his feet bare and still a bit wet from the shower, he padded to the second bed, putting his shower essentials back into the bag he left there.

Neither of them spoke, to the point where Tomlinson wasn’t sure if his companion was even awake. It was still undetermined when he took the bag off the second bed and placed it on a desk, not much other space for it to go available. It must’ve been one of these days when he got cold without any reason, either that or the air con was working its ass off. Not wanting to seem as high-maintenance as he usually did, he was just about to slip under the covers in which he was fully intending to swaddle himself, when he heard Harry clear his throat just behind his back.

So, he was awake. “What are you doing?” Tomlinson could _hear_ the frown on his face, even if that claim did not make much sense at all.

“Going to sleep.” He answered as if that was _actually_ what the question was about. “I thought you’d want some space.” There was no use pretending he was oblivious. _Sure_ , some would be able to make a case stating otherwise, but he was a bit tipsy, not an idiot.

“Do you need some space?” Harry asked, his voice groggy and low, the man clearly half-asleep already.

There was no use lying. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Then don’t be weird. Come here.” Styles croaked, lifting the cover to present the space he had all ready for his friend to join him. “We’re fine until one of us starts being weird about it.” His whisper hung around there for a beat, Louis already under the covers, maybe slightly more distanced than he usually would be. Not for long though, Harry’s strong arm pulled him in, enveloping the boy in his limbs. “So don’t be weird about it.”

Their silhouettes shook just barely so with Styles’ chuckle, and… yeah. As much as Louis liked the vision of them being just like they were before the revelation… he had two problems with it. One- he wasn’t sure if he could ‘not be weird about it’. Two- he had his doubts whether he was satisfied with things being just like they were before his lips shed the dreadful word.

One way or another, those were his personal problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of like this chapter, so I hope y'all enjoyed it.  
> Thank you for being here. Stay safe, be kind, keep tight.  
> See you next week :)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a slight chance that I haven't proof read this one. I think I have but honestly I have quite a bit of stuff on my mind right now so I don't remember. If I haven't, sorry, I will probably return to this at some point.   
> Anyways, thank you for keeping up with the story. Stay safe and see you next week :)

“The only way I can see this getting any less boring is if you dropped your pants right about now.” Louis rolled his eyes to the ceiling above his head, trying to divide his attention between distracting himself from swaying of the cart they were sitting in, and keeping the contents of his stomach down.

It was a horrible idea that Harry had, but Louis was not exactly in the mood to tell him no, already inconvenienced the man enough, so that’s how he found himself at the very top of a ferris wheel of a questionable construction somewhere on the very outskirts of a Renaissance fair they’ve stumbled upon on their way from the place where Louis confessed his feelings in just a few hours prior.

Well…  _ no. _ Harry was not completely responsible for them being there, it was Gemma who insisted that the setting was perfect to snap a few pics while they were in the area, but it was, in fact, the younger of the siblings who got rather disproportionately excited over the most boring of the rides, the rest of the family not interested in joining them in the cart, at all.

They were swaying a little bit too much for Louis’ liking, his stomach making backflips like it always used to do on a boat. Oh well… that was a new one. He was going to push through though, no other way when they were just barely past the halfway point of the ride.

“Well, that’s not going to happen.” Harry laughed, leaning back on the small bench they were sharing despite that a whole lot of space was available to them around. Truth be told, Louis took some kind of comfort in the way Harry didn’t seem to purposefully avoid him even after last day’s revelation. God knows he had every reason to.

_ Fine _ , he wasn’t all that surprised. Not so late in the day anyways. Some sort of ghost roaming the house they’ve slept in must’ve possessed him at night, because neither of his theories of how the morning after would go about, featured him in quite as flirty of a mood as the one he ended up waking in.

It was a rather bizarre morning, on his end at least. Harry was still snoring when he woke up. In this unusual fashion, so far from the panic he expected to wake up in, he was just so… he just wanted to kiss him, and touch him, take more than he was allowed to take since his confession was rather far from a start to their new, reimagined relationship.

He still let himself savour the man beneath him, pushing back at the doubts that arose somewhere in the back of his head. Was he  _ allowed  _ to do this? Was he allowed to touch? To kiss? 

One day back, he wouldn’t have hesitated a second before letting himself do all the things he felt like doing, and if Harry insisted that nothing changed between them (Louis still unsure how he felt about that particular part), it sort of felt like their relationship was not the same as it was just a day prior.

Still, sticking to that particular claim as it was the most convenient to him at the moment, he let himself cross a familiar path over Harry’s flushed, hot skin with his lips, followed by the very tips of his fingers.

It was innocent in nature, at least partly, Louis far from ballsy enough to try anything more than that in strangers’ house, but it was still more than Tomlinson from last night hoped for, so he was content. Even more so when Harry finally awoke from his slumber, and the first thing that left his lips was the groggiest, the most exhausted sort of chuckle, his hand quickly wrapping around the clingy boy.

“Good morning.” He uttered, his voice so low it must’ve been close to reaching some inhuman frequencies. “Somebody slept well, yeah?”

Did he really? Yeah, he supposed. Hell, he doubted that even the baby few rooms over slept better than him, though it wasn’t really  _ that  _ impressive, he wasn’t exactly known for troubles with sleeping or anything of that sort.

“Did you?” He asked, knowing that he was obvious enough, his lips quickly pressed to his friend’s skin, laying a peck on the side of his ribcage. 

“Not really.” The brunette complained, in one swift motion twisting the previous dynamic so now he hung above disoriented Tomlinson. “Still, I can’t imagine a better good morning.” He chuckled, diving straight into Lou’s clavicle, nosing his way up until he reached the boy’s ear. “Now you’re shy?” 

His voice was provocative enough for Tomlinson to get the message. For starters, he wouldn’t blame his squirming on shyness, but rather the tickles that were the bane of his morning self. Second of all, there was no place to let this pleasant morning escalate into anything more than that, even if both of them seemed rather eager to do just that.

“The door’s unlocked.” Louis hissed, biting down on his lip to stifle a whimper that without permission built up in his throat when he felt Harry’s teeth nip at his collarbone. 

Way too cocky for the early hour, Styles chuckled against his partner’s skin. “Yes, and?” The grinning face looked at the teen from just a few inches away, a curious hand trailing up from the inside of Louis’ knee, no shame in the eyes of the perpetrator.

Who was there to blame if not Louis himself? There really was no way to  blame initiating this on anybody else, was there? “ _ Harry. _ ” He drew through his teeth, not yet sure whether he was trying to discipline or voice his appreciation for the touch. Perhaps both. It was one of  _ those  _ situations where he knew he shouldn’t, but all of his being told him yes.

“Okay, mister grouch.” Styles sighed, and actually retracted, falling back onto the mattress next to a boy who, embarrassed to admit that perhaps he didn’t want it to stop as much as he tried to make it seem like he did, only swallowed hard, and focused on getting his breathing back in order. It was rather difficult to do so, Harry’s rapid movements adding a new challenge of staying on the partially deflated mattress that proved to be harder than it sounded like it would be.

So… that’s how their morning went, at least the bigger part of it. Thankfully enough, Louis didn’t have to spend a lot of time pretending as though he wasn’t disappointed in Harry  _ actually  _ listening to his instructions as a smell of cooked bacon summoned them to the kitchen soon after their little moment ended.

The breakfast was a true family affair. There were way too many people, and everybody seemed to have a lot to say which only meant one thing- a migraine. 

Sure enough, among the arguments about which parent does the baby look more like (newsflash- nobody, it’s a fucking baby, it looks like every baby on the planet), exchanging family recipes, and telling of very lame jokes that were only justifiable because actual fathers (or Harry) told them, there was a headache with his name on it.

Still, even as exhausting as it was to sit through the breakfast, the thick layer of scrambled eggs and pancakes lining his stomach by the very end of it, he couldn’t say he did not enjoy the homey atmosphere of it all. Well… he could, but he would be lying. Even with Harry, seemingly possessed by the same demon that took over Louis, or at least comparably horny mate of said entity, whispering obscenities to his ear every time he realized nobody was paying attention to the two of them, he found himself generally happy to be there, to be a part of it despite still feeling like an outsider.

Maybe it was sort of cool to have that around… The embarrassing aunts, the drunk, aggressive uncles and kids that wouldn’t leave you alone. It must’ve been his second plate of pancakes when he realized that, and the thought hasn’t left him since, even well into the afternoon, his head was this strange mixture of horny and nostalgic about a family he never really had.

He couldn’t believe his thoughts, but maybe he saw it… Harry’s side in all of this. Perhaps he wouldn’t speak so lightly of abandoning everything if he had something like Harry did. A family, a support system. He had Isabella, of course, he loved her to pieces, but it’s really not quite the same thing, is it?

He was confused, really. Puzzled by his own thoughts because… As tragic as it seemed in the sense that it kept his friend from achieving things he was more than capable of achieving, he couldn’t help but envy him the very thing holding him back.

The vicious green of envy clouded his vision with every introduction of an embarrassing relative, or the perfectly ordinary one. Hell, even if he knew that Harry didn’t like them, at all, the nosy questions about the man’s love life didn’t piss him off as much as they usually would. Maybe he would consider switching the freedom and privilege he was raised in just for that… a family.

“I think I understand you a bit better after this weekend.” He dared to say as they were making their way down to earth. Either his words were not clear enough or his friend let his mind wander somewhere else, but the questioning look he gave Louis, told everything about what he understood from that remark. “Forget it, you’d laugh at me.” In a sudden realization, Louis decided to keep this to himself.

Harry probably wouldn’t laugh at him though, he never did when the moment didn’t suit it. For a second, Louis even felt bad for making that assumption, Styles’ utterly outraged countenance driving the guilt home. “I wouldn’t if it wasn’t a joke.” Harry argued, his face stiff, frowning.

“What if it was a bad joke?” Louis teased, letting himself use those few minutes they had left in the air, and climbed on his friend, kneeling on the bench with his knees splayed on both sides of Styles’ lap. “You’d love it even more, wouldn’t you?” He chuckled, unashamedly leaning to lay a kiss on Harry’s lips, one that was welcomed with a sweet smile, still there when the kiss concluded and Louis remained just nipping on Harry’s full bottom lip for a second or two.

“And who are you to judge which jokes are bad?” Once again, outrage stained the usual expression Harry wore on his face. Then, he dropped the act, face back to neutral as he looked into Louis’ eyes with intensity unmatching the joking manner that still lingered around the younger of the two. “What did you want to say?” He inquired, serious, gaze intense as if demanding an honest answer.

Louis was not going to lie to him, he did not have a habit to. Still, under the compelling glare, he swallowed hard, and let his eyelids fall lazily just to gain a second or two with that unnecessarily long blink. “Why is that so important?” Turned out he wasn’t planning on giving up the truth that easily.  _ Fine _ , perhaps he was a bit more embarrassed to say that out loud than he thought he would be.

How shocking! Harry frowned again. “Because you wanted to tell me something, but then you’ve made up in your head that I would laugh at you.” This… did not clear things up, not really. “Which I never would, and you should probably know it by now.” The man continued, using the hands he settled on Lou’s hips without the boy noticing, to keep him in his lap when the teen started squirming, trying to wriggle away from the scrutiny of his friend’s eyes. “You don’t have to tell me, of course, but I don’t want you to ever feel like…  _ you know _ .”

Did he know? He wasn’t sure if he did, at least not previously. Then, in that goddamn, squeaky cart they were confined in, with Harry’s eyes from intimidating, suddenly turned honest, and tender, there was no way he wasn’t sincere. So… yeah, he knew. “I know.” He pressed his lips together in a semblance of a smile, and wrapped his arms behind Harry’s head, fitting his chin in the man’s jugular, drawing a deep breath through his nose to enjoy the cologne the brunette was wearing since the occasion apparently was fancy enough to justify it. 

They shook together for a bit, Harry seemingly finding that unexpected embrace rather amusing, but he still wrapped his own arms around the boy’s waist and held him close. “I just…” Louis mumbled with his face still nuzzled in his friend’s neck. “Maybe I understand a bit more why you don’t want to leave after seeing what you have here. It’s just that.”

Harry stilled for a second, but soon tightened his embrace before he let go, forcing Louis to look at him. “Why would I ever laugh at that?” His tone sour, matching his expression, he looked on, trying to find something in the face staring back at him in a confused daze.

It was just a bit… extreme, wasn’t it? Quite a reaction, getting so offended over something so minor. Louis shrugged his shoulders, eyes drifting to the glass pane behind the man who stared at him. He wasn’t even particularly focused on what was happening outside, his main goal was to avert the strangely uncomfortable gaze he practically felt on his skin. “It’s just a bit embarrassing, isn’t it? Pathetic, I suppose.” The off-handed comment hung heavy between the two of them until Louis realized that his words could’ve been easily misinterpreted, hence why he decided to elaborate. “I mean me only now realizing that family can be important to some people, not you having one.” Yeah, that covered it pretty much. “If anything I’m sort of jealous.” Why was he still talking? Did somebody know? He didn’t. “Homophobic uncles and everything.” 

_ Ouch _ … as cleansing as it was to get this whole thing off his chest, laying it all on a man whom he trusted to keep it secret, it hurt like a bitch on the way out. He knew he was speaking out of his ass, and that had no actual connection to reality, but at the moment, now that the memory of last night was dulled by a layer of dust, it felt almost, if not just as challenging to utter as the declaration he struggled just an evening prior.

Harry sighed, the strain put on him by the current battle he fought with his thoughts evident on his face. Louis knew he should’ve stayed quiet, the mood was ruined, and he was the one responsible for it. He didn’t like the weight this realization put on his shoulders, not one bit. Unfortunately, that was not something he was able to unsay. 

And then, he was saved by the bell- quite literally as the bell outside rang and it was their turn to leave, the man standing outside the door looking at them strangely, the PDA apparently not something that was welcome by the locals, and Louis couldn’t really blame them. Hell, he was the first one to frown upon a pair of straights swallowing each other’s faces in public.

They’ve scrambled back to their legs, and left, Harry clearing his throat, apparently just as conscious of the ride operator’s staring as his friend. He thanked the man like his manners dictated, and soon enough they were off to see the rest of the fair, Louis rather unenthusiastic about seeing more people in period clothing, but far more excited considering that continuing the conversation was the other option.

Thankfully enough, there was not a lot to see, the ferris wheel the main attraction other than quite embarrassing performances on a makeshift stage, and a whole bunch of little shops with all different kinds of tchotchkies. Louis wasn’t sure how accurate to the Renaissance it was, but he was snacking on kettle corn while Harry was making his purchase when he found something interesting at a stand selling hand-carved wooden trinkets.

It didn’t take long for them to grow bored, and Louis couldn’t say that he was disappointed about that. Upon finding the rest of their party, it turned out that the women shared their outlook, and they could, at last, head back on the road.

Louis wasn’t sure if it was the weather or something else, but soon enough the two women in the backseat were discovered to have dozed off, apparently too bored to remain awake. He wasn’t going to lie- he thought about a nap before, but he always considered it rude to leave the driver all alone, so he wasn’t going to do that now.

Even more, he turned to face Harry’s profile, fitting himself into a tight corner against the door, the wind ruffling his hair. 

For a longer while, they were silent, letting the radio broadcast kill the silence for them, Harry’s face strangely tight and pensive while he drove, much different from the neutral expression he usually wore while he drove, Louis would know. 

He didn’t ask though, didn’t dare in case it was somehow connected to the conversation they didn’t manage to finish earlier. All he could do was stare ahead, his eyes darting to Harry for a second or two at a time just to go back to the road again soon, perhaps a bit unsure what was happening between them at the moment.

They were somewhere close to civilisation as it seemed, Harry standing at a level crossing with the same wistful expression, one that Louis wouldn’t hesitate to acknowledge as a new standard.

The driver glanced at the women of his life in the rear view mirror, still fast asleep, and then, unexpectedly, he chanced a look at Louis, still tucked into his corner of comfort. And then, he smiled. The sweet, dimply smile felt so out of place, it looked almost artificial, but Lou appreciated the effort, doing another one of his pressed lips passing as a smile thingies, blinking at his friend in that meaningful way he hoped Harry could read.

And then, Harry did something that Louis wouldn’t expect him to. With the shadow of that smile still on his face, he outstretched his arm, fingers splayed as far as they went as he waited for… Tomlinson wasn’t sure, that’s why it took him a moment to get it… at least he  _ hoped  _ he got it, because if not, he was going to make a fool out of himself. 

Still, he risked it, and spread his palm in the same manner, pressing his fingertips to his friend’s, a bit of a challenge with his hands being significantly smaller. The grin on Harry’s face could only mean that he read the intention correct, or misread it completely, and Styles just found it amusing. Could be either, but hey, it worked.

The brunette took the liberty of lacing their fingers together, dropping them in between the seats, keeping them locked when it was time to get back to driving. The simplest of gestures was tremendous in helping to ease the atmosphere between them, to clearly state that everything was fine and well. 

Louis wasn’t naïve enough to believe that this was the last of that particular conversation, but he wasn’t going to think about that too much, letting himself enjoy the tender affection spilled so unashamedly even with a risk of being caught by either of the backseat passengers.

He wasn’t wrong, he rarely was if he could not humbly say, after all that was just a fact, not a brag. It was well into the night when the two of them were staring at the sky, sprawled on the bed of Harry’s truck, clad only in their still damp trunks, a blanket lining the hard surface they laid on. They were silent for the most part, all their words spilled by the gentlest of touches they gifted each other, Harry’s fingers dragging over his friend’s skin absentmindedly, Louis doing the same to the arm that caressed him so sweetly. 

They needed that, the calm solitude where the two of them could just…  _ be.  _ Be themselves, be together, be. 

Louis loved the time he spent at Anne’s, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go without seeing the woman too long, but he appreciated being alone with Harry from time to time, having him all to himself, open and vulnerable, not something that often happened around the man’s mother since he had to step into the whole head of the house boots way too prematurely. 

The weather was just as grey and gloomy as the day before, hence why Louis skipped on the swimming part on which Harry insisted so much, he still managed to get him all wet as he straddled him with his soaked trunks on. It didn’t help, there was no way Louis was going to do that to himself.

So, they laid under the stars, Styles tracing with his finger constellations on the dark slate above the town, Louis in no way capable to verify whether the things he spoke had any grounds in reality, so he believed him, letting himself be lulled with the low timbre he fell in love with the very second he heard it for the first time.

Then, Harry stopped talking for a while, a longer while than he usually would stay quiet for, his eyes staying focused on the sky that kept their romance secret from the world. “Lou?” He broke the silent streak at last, his fingers stilling, still touching the tender skin stretched on a hip of a friend who only gave him a hum of acknowledgement, stating clearly enough that the boy was listening. “Family is a complicated issue…” He broke off, musing over what to say next, apparently still not completely set on a certain way to lead the conversation he’s been thinking about over the bigger part of the evening.

“I’ve seen.” It was rather clear what Louis was referencing, right?

It must’ve been because Harry snorted a laugh, growing quiet once again. “I don’t mean  _ that _ .” He rolled his eyes even though nobody was there to see him do it. “You can still have that, you know that, don’t you?” 

Louis wasn’t sure what it was, but something told him that it was essential to Harry that he responds. Did he know though? He wasn’t sure. So… should he lie? No, that was not an option he was going to entertain, not even for the sake of keeping Harry’s mind at peace. “Do I now?” His voice derisive and bitter, he bounced the question back at his friend.

Harry didn’t seem amused, his nostrils pushing a sigh out. “I mean that.” Was he irritated or just trying to get his point across?

“I know.” 

“Family is so much more than blood.” Harry remarked another one of the wisdoms he sometimes pulled out of his sleeve as it seemed, out of nowhere. 

_ Yeah _ , nowhere seemed to be the option right then, no sleeves on his arms. “I know.” Louis confirmed with pretend conviction.

“You have a family in us.” The heftiness of that statement was not something Tomlinson realized immediately. “Me, mom, Gemma, granddad. You’re one of us, remember?”  _ Yeah,  _ then he felt it, and it  _ hurt _ , something heavy settling itself on his chest, wetness clouding his vision. 

“Don’t say  _ that _ .” He scoffed jokingly, thanking the God above that the strain it took to sound normal was not audible in his words. “I know it’s a sort of craze on Pornhub right now, but I’m not into incest.” Forcibly humorous, he shook his head to seem even less affected.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” 

“I know, I know…” Louis sighed, pinching the outside of his thigh to distract himself from overthinking the words that left Harry’s lips. “You mom invited me to spend Christmas with you.” He snorted, his attitude towards the invitation unchanged- appreciative yet mocking in an inoffensive way.

“Yeah?” Harry seemed surprised. “That doesn’t really agree with the plan, does it?” 

And…  _ oh. _

_ The plan _ …

_ Naturally. _

No, it did not agree with the plan, he supposed. 

The very plan they’ve made during that first conversation they had when it became obvious that they had something for each other.

The plan that put a definite stop to whatever the hell it was that the two of them were doing, at the very day Louis was set to leave Wisconsin. That was…  _ reasonable _ , right? That was the general consensus back in the day.

Unfortunately, quite obviously, a few things had changed since the day that agreement was reached, but now that he heard Harry mention the deal, it seemed rather clear that the plan was still in effect, and that might have been the worst thing Louis had heard in his whole life.

“Not really.” He forced a chuckle, already set on hiding his current state of mind if it was the last thing he was going to do. 

It hurt him just as much as everybody could predict it to. The fact that they haven’t acknowledged Louis’ love declaration was worrying enough, although he gave Harry the benefit of the doubt as there was not really an appropriate moment for this sort of conversation. Now that he learned that the plan was not even affected by the revelation, it was really quite obvious where Harry’s heart was at.

And  _ sure _ , he wasn’t an idiot, he was more or less aware of the fact that what he felt was one-sided, and yet, with all the contradicting signs, and the moments where he felt that Harry  _ actually  _ gave a shit about him, he let himself live in delusion that was just then set ablaze by the reminder of the date it all was going to end and leave him… he didn’t even want to theorise about what he would feel when he was a wreck from as little as what Harry just said to him.

“I’m not going to come,  _ obviously. _ ” Now his eyes rolled theatrically, his hand retracting from Harry’s skin because he just felt like being alone, and that’s as alone as he could get at the moment. “But it was nice of her to think about stuff like that.” Somehow it didn’t even feel  _ that  _ embarrassing to admit that now that he felt so vulnerable and exposed, his poor little heart broken now, way too abused lately. 

Much more humorous, Harry scoffed. “Remember when you thought she hated you?” He asked playfully, still touching goosebumps-covered skin of a friend who did not really appreciate the attention at the moment.

“Well, she doesn’t hate me  _ now _ .” He answered with a bit of an attitude in his words. “How am I to know if she didn’t hate me then? She probably did.”

“Never.” Harry’s head shook with utmost conviction, just as if he resided in his mother’s head and knew exactly what he was talking about. He didn’t, but Louis could see him being right. Not once Anne had  _ actually  _ given him a reason to think she hated him or anything like that. Hell, Louis doubted she was capable of a bitter emotion, an angel of a woman.

In a way, she reminded him of Isabella, sans the temper that Louis loved his father’s ex so much for. Or maybe he just didn’t get to see it come out, probably for the better. 

“And you know that how exactly?” He mocked his friend, for a second forgetting about his despair, just a little breather before it all came back.

“I don’t think she would be as adamant about me going after you if she hated you.” Harry made a case that didn’t even make sense to Louis since he wasn’t familiar with the complete story that was referenced. “She was really pissed when she found out I went for it.”

Confused, that’s what Louis was. “Why did she care so much?”

“Because she liked you.” He stressed, eyes stuck to the sky. “That’s precisely what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t think I get it.” He was tired, okay? 

“I just think she was way more rational about this than any of us. Seeing that there was no other way this was going to end.” Harry sighed softly. “We’ve got it all wrong, haven’t we?”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Louis admitted, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes still hidden behind eyelids he let drop quite a while ago, a risky move considering that he was rather exhausted.

“Same.” The brunette laughed, filling the younger friend with more puzzlement. “It just sort of feels like we’ve missed out on something with a fate not quite as hopeless as this.” His shoulders shrugged flippantly. “Because as pleasant as the bodily pleasures obviously are, I can’t seem to stop thinking that I could have a great friend in you if the paths we’ve taken were a bit different.”

A friend…  _ ouch.  _

“Who says we can’t still be friends?” Frankly, he didn’t think they could, but he was desperate. He was drowning, and there was nothing that could save him but a toothy alligator. And he clutched its tail because what else was there to do? Whichever of the two options he picks, he’s dead in the end. It was just the matter of choosing how he was going to go.

“I don’t think you fully understand the intricacy of what it is that we’ve created.” Harry chimed in with his big words, a classic. “It’s almost terrifying, to be fair.”

“Maybe I don’t.” Yeah… he didn’t understand.

Once more, he had Harry saying stuff that, however he tried to twist and interpret it, did not match with what he said previously. If Styles realized what he was doing, Louis surely hoped he did not, it was quite cruel of him to mess with the teen’s head like that. No, it was really fucking brutal.

Louis thanked himself for closing his eyes when he felt Harry’s body shifting, the man facing his friend now, head resting on his folded arm. “But it’s for nothing now.” He whispered as if the words were somehow harder to utter. “The wondering. We’ve agreed on something, and all that’s left to do is to keep our words.”

He could only nod his head once, almost fully checked out of that conversation. See, even though he previously wanted to have some clarity in his situation, now that he had it, he hated the awareness of what Harry’s outlook on their situation was.

Bullshit. They didn’t  _ have to  _ keep their words. People change, situations change, and plans do, as well, change. There was absolutely no obligation for them to stick with the plan if both of them weren’t up for it. Louis thought he was rather obvious with his mindset, and now that he laid there, it sort of seemed as though his friend, fully aware that he’s the one with the right of decision, was trying to rid himself of the responsibility. 

It didn’t work, of course, it did not. Tomlinson was a lot of things, but he did not consider himself stupid. And  _ sure _ , just like he said, he comprehended now more than ever why Harry didn’t think he could leave, and he wasn’t going to blame him for wanting to stick with his family… 

There was a ‘but’ though. In all of this, even being rejected which he was in the middle of, at least that’s how he felt, he would appreciate some standard, straight-up honesty, but it didn’t seem like Harry took him seriously enough to give him a courtesy of that.

He knew it would hurt, maybe even more than this cryptic approach Harry had adapted. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt him, but at the moment it just felt like, once again, he was back to babying a man who, not once, not twice, expressed how fucking infuriating it was to be talked-down to.

So, he got irritated a bit, though he didn’t think he let that show, his face stoic, eyes closed as he laid still, paying way too much attention to his own breathing. “How very adult of us.” He mocked, more venom in his words than he intended.

“Of course.” Harry chuckled, and fell silent, the two of them busy with their thoughts for a longer while, the moon slowly but surely sliding off the sky. 

“We don’t have to, though.” Louis dared to voice his point of view, in a sudden rush of bravery mirroring Harry’s position, making sure his gaze stays as stern as he wanted it. He was over the bullshit. What did he have to lose now that he pretty much lost everything that he cared for? Nothing at all. “Keep our words, I mean.” 

Harry drew a deep breath of the crisp air surrounding the lake, acknowledging the slight breeze as he grabbed the second blanket and stretched it over the two of them, admitting that perhaps they were  _ a bit  _ underdressed for the weather. 

“Do we not?” He inquired, eyebrow cocked up to show his hesitation.

“I don’t think so, no.” Louis fought his case with mild determination, letting his hand drift to settle over Harry’s, not covering the entirety of the bigger one, settling on gently stroking the cold skin with his fingertips only.

“What do you propose then?” The question met with no immediate reaction. “I would suppose you had at least one different solution to suggest.”

“For starters, you could leave with me.” He brought the option he mentioned countless times. Harry sighed out. “ _ I knooow _ . _ ”  _ He whined, aware of his friend’s attitude towards that option.

“You need to stop asking me to leave with you.” Another exhausted sigh was pushed out of his nostrils. Louis looked offended for a split second before he managed to collect himself. “Because every time it gets harder to tell you no.”

_ Okay _ , maybe there was no reason for him to get triggered. He smirked smugly, pulling the blanket over his face to hide the satisfaction he oozed. “You haven’t  _ actually  _ told me ‘no’, though.”

“I guess.” Harry smiled too, but there was no use denying the sadness that settled in his eyes, one speaking louder than anything he could’ve said. “It just gets harder to come up with excuses.”

“Don’t do that then.” Lou frowned, his index finger following the lines crossing his friend’s palm, Styles’ fingers curling and straightening as he refused to admit that it tickled him. “I can take rejection, I’m not a baby.” Some of his irritation made it into his voice, more edge in it than he intended to put.

“It’s not even that.” Frustration was loud and clear on his face. “I wouldn’t hesitate to go with you if I was a bit younger.”

Louis couldn’t even focus on the actual message of Harry’s words because… What the actual hell? 

“You’re twenty four years old, Harry.” He laughed, because he couldn’t help it. Styles couldn’t even be mad at him for that when he spoke such… ugh. “Is life expectancy in Wisconsin significantly lower than anywhere else?”

Lou’s remark seemed to have an opposite effect to the expected, Harry snorting a laugh as he shook his head. “I don’t believe so, no.” He still laughed until he wasn’t chuckling anymore, face back to serious. “I had a plan, you know?” Louis’ expression was not needed to make it clear that he had no idea. “By now, I should be building a house for my future family or something, and I’m nowhere near even knowing where I want to settle.” He did not avert his eyes from Louis’ inquisitive gaze, the two staring intensely into each other’s eyes. “I can’t just…” He sighed. “I’m going to level with you because I don’t ever want to lie to you.” His fingers curled, catching Louis’ ones in between his own. “I just don’t think I can flip my whole life upside down to chase something so…  _ precarious _ .” Louis knew that big word, but he wished he did not, at least at the moment. “Don’t get me wrong, but it’s quite obvious that you’re not still entirely sure what it is that you want from life. That’s totally fine, you’re only nineteen, who am I to school you on that… But when I wouldn’t hesitate to pack my bag and chase you a few years ago… I cannot afford doing that right now.”

Louis just stared, dumbfounded, and lost for words. He wasn’t mad, he sort of understood where Harry was coming from, and he hated it even more now that he did. It would’ve been easier to throw a tantrum and call him an asshole, easier than acknowledging that he had a fair point, and there was nothing for them written in the stars.

“It was not my intention to sound so brutal, I am sorry.” Harry dared to speak when Tomlinson wouldn’t. “I just have no certainty that whatever it is that you think you’re feeling towards me, wouldn’t change as soon as reality hit, you know?”

There was a protest building up in the teen. If he could acknowledge points where Styles was right, he couldn’t accept the man seeing him as this indecisive kid who mistook a crush for love. It wasn’t him, he loved Harry. Like  _ loved _ . “It wouldn’t have to be romantic.” He struggled through his throat instead. “Dad said I need to get a roommate either way.” 

“I don’t want to be your roommate, though.” A sad smile eased itself on the brunette’s face. “I know as little as that.”

“Then let me stay here.” It was desperation that pushed him to this plea, the same one that made it seem like living in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin was something that he  _ actually  _ wanted. 

Harry shook his head fervently. “I could never.” His squeeze on Lou’s hand tightened. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing that I’m holding you back like that.”

“I want to stay though.” 

“You don’t.” Styles opposed, bringing his other hand to gently pull his friend’s hair off his face. “You think you do because you want to make it work, but it’s not a compromise if one is changing their entire life when the other leaves theirs unchanged. I could never do that to you.”

“So… you’re just going to stay here forever?” 

“Maybe… don’t think so. You’ve opened my eyes to a lot of things, and I’ve been thinking a lot about my future lately.” 

“Any interesting conclusions?” He smiled against his emotions when he felt the pad of Harry’s thumb rubbing his cheekbone. 

“Not really, not yet at least. But I’m thinking, and that’s already more than I’ve ever done.” His lips pressed in a fake smile, something that was supposed to lift Lou’s spirits up but failed miserably. “I could never thank you enough for that.”

Seeing this as a little teaser for their approaching farewell, Louis couldn’t stop the wetness that blurred Harry’s face as it flowed into his eyes. He held the big hand even tighter, grip stronger than ever. “I really love you.” The desperation only made his words more convincing. “I do, Harry.”

“I know, Lou.” Harry kissed the boy briefly. “Sometimes that’s just not enough. I wish I wasn’t the one to make you realize that, but I guess there’s nothing to be done now, is there?”

“I hate this.” Louis burked angrily.

Harry laughed, a reaction quite unusual for the moment. “Don’t be so negative.” Easier said than done. “The world is small. Maybe we’ll meet someday.” He shrugged. “A whole bunch of years later.” Louis didn't comment, trying to pick the pieces of himself scattered all over. “You’ll be great and successful, boast about whatever it is that you’ve discovered you actually wanted.” The smile was still there, green eyes locked with the blue ones. “You’ll ask me how it is here.” He continued. “And I’ll only answer that it’s all painfully constant.” Louis sighed, not liking the vision where Harry’s still there, years ahead. “And you’ll laugh at that, your nose will scrunch like it always does when you giggle.” Louis smiled, he couldn’t help it. “See, just like that.” Harry’s finger poked the very tip of the teen’s nose, a quick peck pressed to the boy’s knuckles. “And maybe it will be different then. Easier.”

A single tear rolled out of the corner of Louis’ eye, sliding down his face to soak into the blanket they were laying on. It was weird that he wasn’t even embarrassed. 

Perhaps there was no space for any more emotions than the one he already felt, it felt like his brain was fully occupied at the moment. Harry took it completely over with all the things that were associated with him. If before those were the butterflies tickling his insides and that overpowering sense of joy, it was replaced by the constant feeling of sadness, and longing that he wasn’t able to explain, prematurely pining for a man who was so close to him, there was no way he could’ve been any closer.


	24. Chapter 24

“All done with your alone time?” Harry asked when he realised he wasn’t on his lonesome anymore, an unnaturally shy boy creeping on him behind a halfway done wall of the construction he was erecting for a while now, a piece of every day sacrificed towards the project that ended up being far more time-consuming than Louis thought it would be. Harry probably knew better how elaborate of a project he got involved in though. “Hi.” He dragged the vowel, smiling sweetly as he approached, and leaned to lay a quick kiss on Louis’ eager lips, the teen pretty much hanging himself on the brunette’s neck.

“That was a stupid idea.” There was not going to be a better time to confess that last night’s Louis was a fool when he requested to sleep alone (yes, he actually did that, what an idiot). After the talk the two of them had on Sunday, he’s been moody the entire next day, trying to organise stuff in his head, come to terms with the conclusion of that conversation. However, it proved to be rather impossible in a company of a man who constantly distracted him with just… being there. It took as little as that.

There was no way Harry didn’t notice his weirdness, and even if he didn’t mention it, Louis knew the time would come sooner or later. He was right, of course, he was. At the point where the evening was bleeding into the night, Harry dared to inquire about what it was that preoccupied his friend so much, having a good idea what it could’ve been. Turned out he hit a jackpot with his guess.

It was brand new information to Louis how much unnecessary bitterness and misunderstandings can be avoided when people are just… honest with each other. They always tell you that, the adults, and he never listened. Apparently, that was something he had to learn on his own.

Harry was more empathetic towards his struggle than Tomlinson would predict him to be, though he sort of felt guilty that he didn’t see that coming from him. He should’ve known better.

Looking like a lost puppy, he admitted to all the things that tortured him ever since they left the lake on Sunday… no, it was more early Monday morning when they drove off. And Harry… Harry apologized maybe seventy times, hugged him close and didn’t even frown when Louis requested to sleep alone that night, claiming that he needed time to think over a few things in his head.

The night was one of the worst ones Louis had at the farm. He barely slept. Now that he thought about it… he should’ve seen it coming. Even with Harry around, his thoughts were sometimes too much to sleep peacefully, but then Harry’s soothing aura always helped him fall asleep. That wasn’t the case with the man behind a wall, snoring peacefully in his bed.

“I thought you’d be hungry.” He handed the brunette a paper bag. “Or maybe I was just a little bit bored and didn’t want to be by myself anymore.” There really was no point in lying, was there? Not really, especially that it was an obvious excuse and Harry had this almost supernatural ability to see right through his bullshit.

Styles left him there, rinsing his hands off the sawdust with a hose, returning to Louis who took a seat on one of the milk crates brought to the site when the mound of lumber shrunk almost to nothing. “I was hungry.” The man admitted in a chuckle, ripping into the bag with no regard to the clumsily folded top. “Aren’t you going to eat with me?” He frowned, taking the first bite out of his rather unappealing turkey sandwich.

Louis really tried this time, it was not his fault that he sucked at this. Harry seemed to take note of the effort, humming through his nose with approval as if he was chewing through some masterpiece of culinary craft.

“I’m not hungry.” Louis lied, staring off into the horizon, taking a sip out of a water bottle he brought with himself. “I’ve taken Grease out for a spin.” The topic was changed rather hastily, Tomlinson somewhat aware that his friend’s overprotective persona was likely to dig into the issue of the contents of his stomach, or rather lack thereof if he didn't take action quickly.

“Thank you.” The words barely made it through the bread that, admittedly, was cut too thick when considered the middle layer of the sandwich. 

Louis didn’t announce that for an acknowledgement or anything of that nature, just using it as an excuse to change the direction in which the conversation was headed. For the sake of keeping Harry from choking on the bread, he offered the man the bottle, the brunette chasing a bite with a solid gulp of water that did not hold any of its initial coolness.

They remained quiet, Louis leaving his crate to take a spin around the construction his friend built, mostly done with the toughest of challenges, only waterproofing of the roof left beside the finishing touches. He circled the shed two or three times, pretending as if he had any idea what one would even look for if interested in conducting an inspection. 

“There’s something I want to show you.” Harry, who pretty much materialized behind his younger friend, startling him just a bit, muttered into the boy’s ear, his palm quickly shifting to where it usually set camp- Lou’s waist, pulling the guy closer to himself. The tips of their noses crushed together with the guidance of the taller of the two, Harry smiling to himself as he followed with an Eskimo kiss. What a fool he was. 

“Where’s Anne?” Was the first thing that fell off Lou’s lips as soon as they made it to Harry’s bedroom where, as claimed, some exciting secret was hidden, all for him to discover. He had a solid suspicion that there was nothing Harry wanted to show him. With their lips seared in a heated kiss as soon as the door was kicked closed by the host, it seemed as though the brunette just wanted them alone which was… arguably better than anything he could ever show Louis.

Only if they were actually alone, however. Louis was a man of principle, one of which stating that he would never let himself get carried away in proximity to any of his lover’s relatives. 

“Work.” The uncharacteristically eager farmer muttered against his partner’s lips, already making advances at the boy’s zipper. “You should’ve known better than to wear these and expect me to be able to control myself.” The chuckle he pushed out was a low one, the vibration of it sending a shiver down Lou’s spine, a pleasant shock reverberating in his bones.

As enjoyable as this introduction was, one of them had to be at least somewhat conscious. It never was Louis, not once before he was the careful, rational one. There had to be a first for everything, he guessed. “Al?” He resorted to the first stages of acquiring speech when he formed the inquiry about Albert’s whereabouts.

Not losing a drop of his zeal, Styles was already nosing his way down Lou’s throat, his hand catching the hem of the boy’s tee. “Out.” His movements did not falter as he slipped the t-shirt off, going back to Tomlinson’s lips as soon as he got rid of the top.

“How long?” Yes, Louis was annoying himself too.

In laughter, Harry bit the bottom one of his friend’s lips. “Long enough.” Still chuckling, he pushed Louis to the single bed he slept in ever since he transitioned from a crib. What an obscene performance he was planning to give his trusty furniture. Not the first one, hopefully not the last one either. “Why are you so nervous?” Clarity broke through the unbridled lust, the staple crease parting his dark brows. “Should I stop? I can if you…”

Louis didn’t let him finish. “Of course not.” He exhaled heavily, Harry, acting quick, placed a hand over his still clothed crotch, just teasing him through the rough fabric. “I’m just not an exhibitionist slut who gets off on being walked in on.” 

There was an attempt at looking offended. “Heeey.” The man complained, almost instantaneously going back to bruising his friend’s lips. 

Sweat was pooling at the backs of his thighs, still pressed flush to his calves, twitching with the intensity of what it was that Harry performed on him just a few minutes before. Maybe he was biased… his perception somewhat influenced by his feelings for Harry, but somehow… he didn’t think it had ever been  _ that  _ good. 

He felt it all, more than he ever felt, so far than just a physical realm of things. His skin was flushed and damp, limbs trembling on their own command, observed with unashamed pride by the guy who just… stared, so fucking happy with himself his face seemed to have brightened with just that. Louis was overwhelmed with the charm of the post-coital bliss, to the point where he could easily see himself giving up all his earthly obligations for exactly this, more of this. 

There was no doubt in his mind that the sacrifice would be worth it. He wouldn’t hesitate to give it all up to stay with Harry, didn’t matter that he didn’t have exactly much planned for himself. Before, when he cried his heart out to Isabella, he didn’t even take his claims completely seriously, just a drunk mess rambling to his friend; happens all the time.

Fine, his mind might not have been exactly in its prime at the moment but seemed to be conscious enough for him to know that he wasn’t speaking out of his ass when he claimed that he would just stay there if that was a choice available to him.

It was not. Harry has made it quite explicit with him that he does not even entertain the idea of him staying there. If it broke Louis’ heart even more, though he doubted that was even possible at that point, it was something he had to deal with on his own, the heap of matters he left to be settled later, now avalanching him with concerns which, on top of the major one, the fact that he let himself for a man who did not reciprocate his feelings, were a thing of rather minor significance.

“There was never anything you wanted to show me, was there?” Trusting that his voice wouldn’t break if he tried to speak, he inquired, feeling foolish for strutting straight into Harry’s trap. “I’m that kid who would walk into a stranger’s van to see the puppies.” 

Harry laughed in line with the boy who still laid flushed on the mattress, his limbs now relaxed, thrown all around. “I would highly advise you not to do that.” DUH, Louis thought, focusing on the finger that traced random shapes on his hip. Harry sat with his legs crossed, back pressed to a wall as he smiled down at his friend, taking in the sight as if the most interesting thing he ever laid his eyes on. “Are you particularly interested in the new leaf that my plant has gotten?” 

“Immensely.” Louis reached to slide his hand against the outside of his partner’s thigh, thumbing circles on the scar he knew was there without a thought in his head. “Cute.” He commented on the potted plant Harry pulled for him off the windowsill, the smallest thing really, quickly back to its place where it could soak the sun up before it slid down the sky. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Face pensive, the host apologized to a boy who, clueless as to what he had in mind, scrunched his face accordingly.

“Uncomfortable?” He laughed, nothing in the events of the last half an hour was uncomfortable. Not to him, at least. To be quite honest, he had an idea that there would be much more of them fooling around by the end than there actually was, but then, he probably had only himself to blame for the shift. “You never do.” The reassurance felt like it was needed, something in how Harry’s face eased upon hearing that, told the teen that perhaps he sensed the necessity right. “That’s one of the things, you know? There’s a bunch, but…” There was no way he was going to finish when he saw the most poignant image of suffering bloom on his friend’s face only to depart as quickly as it appeared. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“No.” Harry rebuffed on an instinct, still so obviously stuck in his head. “I will listen to whatever you have to tell me. It’s just that I’m still a bit frazzled, I need a moment to get used to this.”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have told you had I known you’d care so much.”

“Why wouldn’t I care?” Now he was truly upset.

Louis shrugged, immediately beating himself over the flippancy with which he half-answered the question, not what Harry deserved, not at all. “I assumed it was only me who thought it was a big deal.”

Harry didn’t speak after that, shifting into that contemplative mood that made him look like he was not entirely present, a shadow of himself meandering the room until the engine of Anne’s car startled Louis into dressing himself, the boy sticking with the woman of the house while her son returned to his business, glad to have a minute to sort through his thoughts without the necessity to perform his okay act in front of a man who would immediately know something was wrong.

The night was already at large, swallowing the village whole when the two of them reunited, Harry entering the bedroom that they’ve long since started regarding as communal, slipping outside the window to join his friend on the roof.

“It’s been a while since we’ve hung out here.” He observed, making quick work of draping a scratchy blanket over his friend’s slouched silhouette, Louis yet to acknowledge his presence. “Was a good call to take the horses out tonight, it’s going to rain tomorrow.”

“How’d you know?” The boy questioned the least significant thing of all. Altogether, he believed Harry’s forecasts, he didn’t have a reason not to, all of the predictions spot-on. 

“I just know.” He shrugged, the flex of his muscles shaking the companion seated next to him. “The night’s cold for August.”

“Maybe.” A sigh concluded the utterance.

There was nothing else Louis had to say that hasn’t been said already. He would apologize ten more times if it helped his situation, but he knew that if anything, it would make everything worse. 

They weren’t arguing, they never were, but something told the teen that maybe he would like it better if they were. At least in that situation, there would be actual words exchanged by them, words with substance to them rather than non-committing small talk kept for the sake of pretending everything was fine, the attempts failing every time the caricature of a conversation died down completely.

Louis hated that Harry stuck to this act, consistently insisting that he was okay and the dreadful declaration had absolutely no effect on him when it so obviously had. He could only guess what it was that his confession did to the man, it’s not like he told him anything, but he seemed reserved, just as if he was scared to do anything, wary not to hurt the boy whom he was already scheduled to tear apart in due time. 

What could he say? What was off-limits? Could he touch him like that still, or was it too much? Would it only feed the fantasies Louis lived in if he kissed him with a bit too much conviction? Would it erase everything he told the boy on that infamous Sunday night if he continued to act as if nothing happened over the weekend?

He wished it wouldn’t, because as much as he knew he couldn’t resist Louis for much longer, his appetite growing with every day they were nearing their parting, he doubted he’d be even capable of struggling his way through another one of similar messages, the strain of the first one still a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“I wish you’d just talk to me.” Louis expelled the troubling thought, not ballsy enough to look at his friend, his eyes hung somewhere above the chicken coup. “I’m not an idiot, you know? I see that there’s something weird going on, and I know it’s my fault. I can’t do anything if you won’t tell me what’s on your mind, though.”

“I never said you were an idiot.” In his usual fashion when addressing difficult topics- Harry stuck to the single least important of the mentioned.

“I know.” The teen dragged the vowel to perhaps convey how exhausting it was to probe Harry’s brain like that. He barely even started too. “I know it comes hard to you to treat me seriously, but now would be a good moment.” Where did that saltiness come from? There was no definite answer, but he had a suspicion that subconsciously he was even more over it than he thought he was. “It’s exhausting to guess, and you better believe that I’m doing myself no favours with the theories I come up with.”

“What theories?” Was that amusement? Just a hint of it, but it looked like it was, mixed with something not quite this pleasant.

“I don’t know.” He whined, throwing his hands in the air in the gesture of surrender. There was no way his face didn’t show what he was going through. Now he understood how annoying it was for Harry when all those times he was strangely secretive about his moods. “I just keep psyching myself out, thinking that I’ve fucked it all up because I got drunk and told you. I never meant to tell you, I knew nothing good would ever come out of it, but I did and I wish we could just get over that.” He paused, digging his trimmed nails into the skin on his thigh. “And yet, I know I have no right to ask you to  _ get over that _ .”

“You haven’t  _ ruined _ anything.”  _ All  _ of the exasperation left Harry’s body as he tried to reassure his friend. It didn’t work, but props of the effort. “I’m just…” Testing Louis’ patience, he stopped to collect his scrambled thoughts. “I’m not sure what I can and cannot do anymore. I don’t want to make this any harder on you than it has to be.”

Louis scoffed, how ironic. “You’re doing precisely that.” His chuckle was a strange addition to the mix of just plain…  _ uncomfortable _ . But Harry joined him, even if it felt struggled and spurious. “Just be yourself, that’s all. If you want to touch me- touch me, if you don’t- it’s okay. Do what feels right, and we’ll be fine. I don’t want to waste our time with you tiptoeing around me like I might break if you look at me wrong.” It felt refreshing to get this off his chest. “I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

_ Maybe?!  _ No ma’am. Lou sighed, smoothing pads of his fingers over the dents he made in his skin. “I’m just saying that there’s much more fun to be had if we’re just straight with each other.” He remarked, shrugging his shoulders to put that flippant attitude into the statement. Of course, he had to be so goddamned nonchalant about it, otherwise, it could’ve shown how desperate he was to make them work, and Harry would not benefit from that knowledge. “Just tell me what’s on your mind. Lay it on me and let’s get this over with.” A small smile was directed at the friend who just barely lifted his head to look at the teen. “I’m okay if you don’t want this to be a thing anymore. I promise I won’t make a scene. I just want you to be honest with me on this.”

Just blasé enough, he guessed as he left the decision on his friend’s side. Maybe it was cruel to burden the guy like that, but there was nothing else he could do by himself.

“So maybe I want to kiss you.” The shyness on his face was obscure, not a position in the catalogue of emotions he normally conveyed. It must’ve been somewhat contrived, something about the way how quickly it transformed into a much more familiar smile told Louis it must’ve been. “Would that be a horrible faux pas?”

Louis didn’t need any more than that, all excited with a thrill of presumably having resolved that speed bump in their relationship. Not anywhere as cautious as his friend, he quickly scrambled off the roof tiles, restraining Harry’s movements as he straddled his lap in the usual fashion, taking the dominant position of a seducer when it looked like the other wasn’t keen on doing that.

“I think that would inconvenience me dreadfully.” He snickered, claiming Styles’ lips that proved to be far more greedy than the man’s attitude ever hinted at them being.

“I’ve called Martin.” The declaration was a weird one in the stuffy air of the bedroom that felt like it was still recovering from the activities the two residents have barely concluded, one of which still claiming the other’s lap, sloppy, the most passionate of kisses exchanged between heavy puffs of respiration.

Harry frowned, unsure what prompted his partner to contact home. He hasn’t done that since… eh, neither wanted to come back to  _ that  _ stage of their relationship. As transformative as it was, it still remained a sore spot in their memories. Just about to inquire, only his expression managed to slip into that questioning one before his underlip was taken by a restless boy who was far more audacious than he was just a few hours ago in his partner’s childhood bedroom.

“I’ve asked him, very kindly, mind you that... if he could push my flight back a couple of days.” The grin on Lou’s face was a dead giveaway, but Harry questioned him with a cocked eyebrow nonetheless, refraining from using any vocabulary, his breath still a bit unsure to test his limits with such a strenuous task. “I’ve gotten myself three more days in this lovely resort.” Louis joked, shoving the covers off his shoulders so now they were just pooling around his bottom.

“When are you leaving for school?” The math didn’t add up in Harry’s head.

“I’ll have like thirty hours in New York, and then I’m off to rule the world.”

“Is that enough?”  _ Okay _ , couldn’t he at least acknowledge the joke? Or pretend that he was happy with those three days Louis so fiercely fought for? What a disappointment. “To see your friends? Pack?”

“I don’t have a lot of stuff to take.” Louis shrugged, using his thumbs to follow Harry’s jawline, tilting the man’s head to the back so he could have at his neck. “Most of my friends won’t be there by then.”

He could feel under his lips how Harry’s throat tightened for the briefest of moments. “Don’t you want to see them before you all go your own ways?” Of course, he was the voice of reason in all of this.

“It’s fine,” Louis murmured, dismissing the matter. Obviously, he wanted to see his friends before they were gone, but his priorities were all over the place at the moment, there was never a moment of hesitation which of the two options he was going to pick. As shitty as it made him sound, he couldn’t say he felt  _ that _ bad about it. “I’ll see them in October.”

“I don’t know if…”

” _ Harry.”  _ He drew through his teeth, stopping the protests. “I know what I’m doing, alright?” His movements stilled, just like they always did when as little as a murmur outside the door indicated that they were not the only ones awake. Voice lowered to a whisper, he neared his friend’s ear, teasing the lobe with his teeth. “Or are you just so desperate to have me gone?”

Not taking caution of the commotion outside, heavy steps indicating that Frank was making his way to bed, Harry chuckled lowly. “Precisely.” A nod of his head did not make the act more believable. “I just don’t want you to regret it later.”

The boy swallowed hard, his throat strangely tight in reaction to the underlying message that he could’ve imagined completely. Perhaps he was digging into the matter far too much, searching for issues that weren’t even there. One way or another, he couldn’t exactly help it.

Shaking his head to deny any implication as if he was ever going to regret any second spent with Harry, he loosely knotted his hands behind the man’s neck, nuzzling his face against the flushed, still sweat-slicked neck of his lover, drowning in the soothing comfort of the embrace he was quickly swallowed by.

-

“Stop the car.” The demand in his voice was more forceful than it ever manifested before, only because the circumstances favoured such an assertive attitude.

It didn’t seem as though Louis’ words even reached the driver, Harry’s knuckles white as he sped through the night with that intimidating countenance he adapted solid half an hour before. Gradually, the truck began to lose speed, the foot off the pedal as Styles started breathing with intent beyond the simple act of respiration.

“Pull over, here’s fine.” The headstrong approach carried over from the former instruction.

Miraculously, Harry listened, rolling his truck off the road, turning the engine off. In an unsuspected display of powerlessness, he crashed his forehead into the wheel his hands still were clasped on.

Slipping a tentative hand between his friend’s back and the seat, Louis tried to soothe, even if he was clueless about how to do that. Normally he would just be his clingy self, place a couple sweet kisses on the man’s lips and it would be okay again. That method didn’t seem to foreshadow great results in that case, though he was yet to get ahold of the man for long enough to try his old faithful.

Harry was still as furious as when they left the farm, however, now it was obvious that he was trying to hide it from Louis which… wasn’t exactly ideal.

“It’s fine. I’ve always said you could use a vacation.” Humour was not something he thought would work, hence why he wasn’t  _ that  _ disappointed when his suspicion proved to be spot-on. Feeling the strain in his muscles, he dropped the hand to Harry’s thigh, squeezing it to show support without gaining himself a cramp in the process. “Harry, look at me.” He did look, and when Lou’s eyes fell on the defeated expression of the brunette’s, that’s when he regretted asking for the attention. “He’s not going to tell anybody.” There was really no credibility to his words, how could he ever know? “Ada wouldn’t let him, you saw her.”

Sighing deeply, Harry broke off the eye contact, bringing the engine back to life, the roar cutting through the silence of the night.

The next time he spoke, they were already in the bedroom he grew up in, the man hastily tidying the space with uncoordinated movements, the emotional turmoil visible with how everything seemed to be slipping out of his hands, followed by clusters of profanity expelled in a whisper.

“I fucked everything up.” He declared when they were left alone by Anne who, confused with the late, unannounced visit, arose from her bed upon hearing the howl of a familiar vehicle.

“I really don’t think they will say anything.” With a little bit less conviction than previously, Louis recycled the argument he wasn’t sure reached Harry before. He sat at the edge of the bed, physically lending some good spirits to his lover with a hand he placed on the small of the man’s back.

“Fuck him, I don’t care.” He did, there was no point in denying when he so obviously  _ cared _ . “I’m sorry.” The mutter was barely audible in the silent house, the rest of the household already asleep or in the process of falling. “I didn’t mean to, Lou. Fuck, I am so sorry.”

Harry held his face in his hands, just like Louis saw him do merely a few days before. This could only mean one thing- he was going through it. The apology didn’t make much sense to Louis, not when he couldn’t really see how this situation was ever going to affect him, well… other than this new living situation he was going to have to get adapted to. If anything, and he felt guilty to even admit that, it was sort of a win for him.

So… yeah, they got caught.

And… let’s just say that Frank did not take it half as well as his wife. There was no use reminiscing the details of how this argument went, Louis’ eyes fogging up with wetness the second he as little as brought back the fear he felt, not knowing what he could expect of the boss in a situation quite like this.

Now that he looked at it from a distance, it was rather underwhelming. He suspected fistfights and slurs, but all they got were the most contemptuous of looks, and clear instruction to get the fuck out of the farm, no approval for such ‘deviations’ under Frank’s rather clueless nose.

In a sense, it was worse than as if it concluded in a huge row and a few busted lips because they weren’t entirely sure what they could expect Frank to do with the information he acquired by accident, the lovers perhaps getting a bit too cocky with a lucky streak they’ve been on.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. It was safe to say they’ve run out of their luck.

That’s how they ended up in one place they knew was a safe space, seeking shelter under the wings of a woman who was always there to protect her son regardless of circumstances.

“We’re fine,” Louis repeated, using both of his hands to sandwich Harry’s face, force him to look in his eyes. “Frankly, it went better than I could ever think it would.”

“It did, didn’t it?” A solemn chuckle seeped out of the brunette’s nostrils. “You’re not mad?”

Frowning, Louis sought for the hem of his friend’s tee, taking the liberty of ridding the man of the first article of clothing. “I don’t have a reason to.”

“What if he tells your dad?”

“Then it's going to be far from a revelation to him.” He shrugged because  _ really _ . If his father was never enthusiastic about his son’s orientation, he must’ve come to terms with it by then, at least to the point where he wouldn’t flip out upon hearing about the boy’s summertime fling. “Strip, we’re going to tidy up tomorrow. I’m too tired for this tonight.”

And Harry  _ actually  _ listened, visibly comforted with the information that his lack of self-control was not going to inconvenience Louis in some tremendous way if, in the worst-case scenario, Frank actually decided to share the news with all he believed should be concerned.

Soon enough they were already winding down on that small bed which mattress was rather narrow for one person, let alone two. It didn’t really matter though, not as long as it was Harry who tangled Louis in his long limbs all throughout the night.

-

Waking in a new place was a rather strange process, it didn't even matter much that the place was far from actually  _ new.  _ With his brain somewhat compromised by lingering sleep, it took Louis a hot minute to recall the events of last night, and ease the slight panic that arose with him.

There was not much time for him to get his brain in check, his bladder successfully smoking him out of bed, the sliver of space he left immediately claimed by Harry who had slept like a baby, his lips pouting, eyelashes fluttering with his eyelids in a vivid dream. Postponing the bathroom visit just slightly, he took notice of the chillness of the room and covered his friend's goosebumped torso with a washed-out duvet, tiptoeing out of the bedroom not to wake up the man who could use an hour or so more.

The house was dead-silent, the violent pitter-patter of the raindrops overpowering those soft snores Louis left behind a door. Wherever the rest of the residents were, it didn’t seem like there was anybody else at home, which was a relief as he  _ maybe  _ felt a bit too comfortable, not thinking that perhaps parading with his morning wood straining in his boxers was a bit too much.

The bathroom visit consisted of the bare minimum, Louis still too hazy with sleep to bother with getting himself presentable. As it turned out later, that would’ve been a waste of time. The little solo hangout session in front of the TV that he initiated due to the fact that he wasn’t exactly keen on wrestling Harry’s unconscious body off his side of the mattress, ended up being an hour of sleep that he caught with reruns of  _ Modern Family  _ in the background. It was only his rumbling stomach that got him out of slumber.

Rummaging through the cupboards was not something that he was completely comfortable doing, hence why he approached the kitchen with a certain dose of reluctance. Still, between dying of starvation and breaking rules he made up in his head, the choice was quite easy to make, so he invaded.

Turned out to be just the right call, his little endeavour apparently expected, a note on the fridge door indicative of that. Anne, a true sweetheart, made sure to leave the two with breakfast  _ almost  _ ready. The only thing for them to do was to cook up the pancake batter the woman left for them among cut-up fruit for garnish.

Louis could do that, he supposed.  _ Okay _ , he was far from the greatest chef on the continent, but he believed in himself enough to take that task upon himself. And maybe he got a bit excited with a prospect of, for once, being the one to wake his friend up with breakfast.

It wasn’t even  _ that  _ hard! With two blackened circles he wasn’t going to speak of in the trash, he got a hang of it, more appealing- golden treats sliding off the non-stick he wielded with confidence, two sizable stacks soon enough waiting to be decorated.

“You’re pushing it really. It’s been eleven hours.” Proud and on the verge of trashing his effort with his clumsiness, he made sure to make his presence known in the bedroom when he thought he caught Harry’s eyes opening. “I hope you’re starving.” He set the makeshift tray that, in reality, was just a big-ass cutting board, on the end of the bed, no other space available.

“ _ Eleven?”  _ Styles inquired, true horror flashing in his misty eyes. In a gesture that Louis would deem adorable if he was  _ that  _ kind of person, he tried to rub the sleep off his eyes. Moves languid, the eleven hours of sleep still having an effect on him, he rose to a seating position, smirking at the tray. “So you’re a liar now?” Louis looked at him puzzled, making his way to claim the spot next to his friend. “Weren’t you supposed to only know how to make sandwiches?”

_ “Yeah.”  _ The chuckle was a nervous one as if he was accused of something serious. “Most of the credit goes to Anne though.”

Shaking his head just barely so, Harry smiled. “Of course.” Chewing on the first bite of his pancake, he gazed out of the window. “I told you it would rain.” The observation was rather useless, the rain making sure it wasn’t forgotten. “Guess we’re having a quiet day in.”

“That’s a new one.” He couldn’t say he didn’t like the vision of it.

The whole morning… or early afternoon really, was a mix of honey kisses, soft cuddles after breakfast, and the less soft ones, the weather favouring the spontaneous misbehaviour. It was only when Harry announced that Anne would be returning soon that Louis forced his dead body out of the bed and took a shower, thinking that having the woman return to him still in bed would be a rather rude way to kick off his temporary stay there.

It felt alien and rather weird to be the one to encourage Harry to cut the laziness, and do  _ something.  _ Something turned out to be tidying their new dwelling up as they sort of let it…  _ well _ , it never looked worse. In the meantime, like a good roommate he wanted to be, he made sure to leave the kitchen spotless- just like he first encountered it.

The sun might as well have been a myth that particular day, deeming everyone rather useless. Even Anne, the woman who never seemed to be out of steam, came back with takeout to have for dinner. Louis couldn’t say he was disappointed. Not only was he an enthusiast of trashy food, but he also enjoyed having his new friend around when they grew roots around the cushions of the lounge set, stuck watching the  _ Lord of the Rings  _ movies that Harry insisted on them seeing.

Neither Louis nor Anne were  _ incredibly  _ invested in whatever was happening in the movie, Louis only half concentrated on the screen, more of his attention devoted to not giggling when Harry, overtaken by some impish spirit, took advantage of the feet Louis had tucked under his thighs and tickled them whenever his mother looked away.

It was a strange evening in that sense where Louis both loved it and hated it, truly contradicting mindsets fighting for dominance over his head. As much as he adored the comfort of this homey atmosphere, the way Anne pretended not to see those telling looks they threw at each other during ad blocks, the way how absolutely relationship-y it all felt, was more terrifying than he would ever predict it to be.

No, not even that… The most alarming thing of all was that with each of these moments, he struggled less and less to imagine this being his life.

“How do you even know all that stuff?” Some outrage made it into his voice, way too shrill for the late hour when he inquired, the heaps of random  _ Lord of the Rings  _ trivia raising his suspicion more with every piece Harry whispered in his ear.

It was late into the night, both Anne and Albert, who was a guest in his own house that particular day, were already asleep, Harry’s snoring apparently inherited from his grandfather whose performance vibrated through the thin walls that separated the rooms.

Not to disturb the sleepers, as well as to have a bit more privacy, something Louis was very adamant about, they moved to Harry’s bedroom, watching the last of the movies on the laptop, having a feast of M&M’s they had left from their weekend getaway. Quite a surprise when Louis found a pack in the glovebox of Harry’s truck.

“It’s in the book,” Harry announced conversationally.

“There’s a book?” From the expression on Harry’s face, he knew he fucked up. With all they’ve been through, it must’ve been the most insulted Harry ever looked, and somehow that was not  _ that  _ surprising, at least not with the random facts he avalanched his friend in.

He really looked like somebody just insulted his mother, and Louis couldn’t help but chuckle at the sheer terror staining his countenance. “Please tell me you are joking.” Face unimpressed, he waited for confirmation that Lou was, in fact, joking.

Of course, he wasn’t. That’s how uncultured he was. “What’s the big deal?” He shrugged, rolling his body into the brunette’s.

The support was gone when Harry started scrambling off the floor. “I don’t know…” He  _ knew,  _ the contemplative attitude not fooling anybody. “Maybe you disrespecting the most brilliant mind of fantasy literature?” Concluding that strangely opinionated speech, a book was tossed right in front of Louis’ face, well-loved one as it seemed. “I won’t speak to you if you don’t read it.”

Well, that was just a bit much. “I think I’m done with reading for now.” Yeah, there were much more enticing means of spending time on the horizon.

“Keep it then.” The man joined his friend on the floor again. “But it is a must-read.”

Well… according to  _ the talk, _ it wouldn’t really matter if he read it later, would it? Still, he decided to leave that topic out of the conversation. “You’re sure?”

“I have other ones.” The book was picked up by the brunette, Harry shuffling through pages without much thought. “This is a copy I  _ might have  _ forgotten to return to the library like ten years ago.”

Now that was a scoop, Louis perking the fuck up at once. “And Anne didn’t claw it out of your hands?” The imagined scene resulted in a stifled chuckle.

“That library doesn't exist anymore.” A shame, Louis really liked the vision of Harry’s face being plastered on a board of some small-town library. “See if you like it, there’s two more, but I only stole the first one.”

“Yeah, I’ll see if I can fit that in my student’s budget.” He groaned, playing it up as if two books were out of his financial reach.

-

“Or we could ask mom to get them.” The absolute lack of emotion on his face was a shocking sight to see, especially to Louis who deemed the idea an outrageous one already. “How do you feel about cilantro?” A few sprigs of the vibrant-green herb were waved in front of the teen’s face.

The smell alone had Louis  _ almost  _ gagging. “I’m fatally allergic to it.” Now  _ that  _ should get his point across.

The still expression on Harry’s face was quickly replaced by a frightened shock, the green eyes stuck to Louis’ face with an unasked question. Maybe he was a tad stumped, stunned by the lack of his friend’s responsibility. He didn’t think he was exaggerating when he thought that this should’ve been the very first thing Louis told anybody upon his arrival.

“ _ By choice. _ ” Louis burked, rolling his eyes to the ceiling above their heads.

If he overreacted previously, the departure of that emotion was rather uneventful, just a smile replacing the bewilderment, a gentle shaking of his head to express how ‘done’ he was with his friend’s antics.

“And yeah, I’d rather crawl all the way to the gas station than have your mother buy us condoms.” His attitude was rather definitive, with no wiggle room for any sort of mediation.

So they’ve forgotten the single thing they went out to purchase, the groceries they’ve picked up for dinner taking their minds completely off their top priority, leaving them in a bit of a predicament.

This time it was Harry who rolled his eyes, Louis able to see the attitude shine through from the top-tier spot he had on the counter, being the lazy one who just observed his friend preparing the salad, the rest of the dinner already in the oven. See, they thought it would be nice to do this for Anne, a thank you of sorts for not even mentioning the new situation, just as if Louis always lived with them and this was not a burden at all.

It was a few weird days after they left the farm, returning only once to retrieve their stuff. It was a bittersweet visit, sort of strange too. Ada, whom they didn’t have anything against, apologized for her absent husband, strangely distanced as if she wasn’t sure how the incident affected their friendship. It didn’t, but she did not know that.

With the threat of Frank returning any second, more present at the farm when he willingly got rid of his helpers, they packed hastily, prioritizing Louis’ stuff since with the two guys sharing Harry’s clothes, they were running out rather quickly.

Harry being Harry, assured his friend ten times that their relationship was still the same, Ada making sure to hint at the fact that they had nothing to worry about in terms of their relationship staying secret. With that, they invited Ada to come by whenever she feels like it, and they were gone.

Those rainy days left little time to be spent outside, working on the housing for a horse that was yet to be retrieved, the separation taking as big of a toll on the animal as it seemed to take on the owner who with every mention of his pet, became all glum and nostalgic.

With Louis getting somewhat engaged in the construction, trying to help out as much as his abilities let him, they were already more or less finished, at least to the point where a horse kept there would be happy and secure.

That was a plan for after dinner, Harry adorably giddy in anticipation of the reunion that was scheduled in maybe two hours. Louis wasn’t going to the farm, not after Harry explained that he would rather have him stay at his mom’s. He didn’t understand at first, maybe he was a bit bothered by that, at least up until the point where Harry admitted that with Frank bound to be around, he knew he would get in trouble again.

Of course, that made Louis want to go there even more if only to have some delusive sense of control over the situation. It took Harry, with a heavy heart as it seemed, perhaps the man considering it weak, admitting that this vigilant attitude was not exactly something that was always with him, and it always bloomed in Lou’s vicinity, to convince him to stay.

He smiled, remembering the sheepish Harry who admitted his secret to his friend, both of their faces flooded with red for two different reasons. It was a sweet moment, on Tomlinson’s side at least, a sweet kiss concluding the moment he could see Styles wanting to put behind them immediately.

“You’re home now, you sweet bastard.” Louis laughed as he patted the side of Raven’s head, the horse barely deposited in his new home, already the centre of attention. There was a sombre feeling somewhere in the pit of his chest, one that he couldn’t deny even if he tried. Of course, he was glad to see his friend reunited with his animal, but he couldn’t help but miss the rest of the bunch, friends that were stripped away from him far too abruptly.

Amid the chaos surrounding their move, there was no time to think of such things as goodbyes, even less to ponder about how Louis would come to miss the animals. It was quite a surprise when it struck him, the boy still getting the first wave of it under control, trying his best to keep it under wraps, spoiling Harry’s moment the last thing he wanted to do.

“I thought it would be too big for him.” Harry laughed, already on the task of grooming the stallion which, as the brunette supposed, Frank must’ve neglected out of spite. Thankfully enough, the damage was not critical, nothing a little love and care couldn’t fix, and now Raven had two more hands at his service. “But he fits perfectly, seems comfortable already.”

“He’s a big boy.” The observation was not exactly necessary when both of them were at least seven or eight times lighter than the animal. Failing to hide the moody expression on his face, Louis grabbed the empty bucket and made it to the hose to fill it, not much change in his demeanour in those two minutes he was gone. “How are the other ones?” There was no use pretending he wouldn’t eventually ask, that way he saved himself the struggle to keep it in.

For the first time in a while, Harry’s head twisted in his friend’s direction, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the expression they fell on. Having become practically fluent in Lou’s body language, the crease in between his eyebrows was not a surprising one. “They seemed alright to me.” While the wording was rather flippant, the late hour stopping any more elaborate linguistic endeavours, it really seemed as though Harry tried to make sure he sounded genuine. “They miss you too, you know?” With a small smile, he reassured. Dropping the brush into the box he made from scraps of lumber, he approached the boy who seated himself on a bench Harry had yet to finish putting together.

It was mostly habitual when Louis’ legs splayed open whenever Harry approached him, making space for the man to fit himself in between them. With a sly smirk on his face, that’s exactly what the brunette did, setting his palms on the splintery wood on either side of Lou’s bottom, his face inches from Louis’, eyes drilling through the forced calmness that the boy was failing to support.

“I know this is hard on you, I can see.” He declared the final thing Tomlinson needed to drop the act. His arms wrapped around Harry’s neck as if without command, Louis moulding himself to his friend’s body in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry. So sorry, Lou.”

Louis didn’t entertain those apologies with any sort of acknowledgement, neither of the millions that shed Harry’s lips since they were kicked out. Even if it didn’t seem to be a shared outlook on the situation, he was not blaming Styles for them getting caught. So what it happened to be the one time he started something, it could easily have been any of the thousands Louis was the initiator, and if that was the case, it was obvious that Harry wouldn’t let him blame himself either.

They stayed in the embrace for a long while, which turned out to be everything Louis needed at the moment, just a little support to drop those things that were weighing heavy on him, with each day closer to his departure- the more overwhelming the heap of matters he had on his mind. Neither took much notice of Raven’s impatient snorting, aware that it was nothing more than a harmless attitude shining through the horse’s poised image, something only the most trusted were permitted to see, Louis one of those people after quite a long trial period.

“If it helps,” Harry muttered lowly, his embrace still tight as ever. “They’re well cared for there.” Did it help? Maybe a bit, Louis didn’t know. “The neighbour boys are helping with them from what I’ve heard.”

Unsure what to say, Louis sighed, loosening his grip on the man who most likely started getting impatient with him, at least that’s what insecurity whispered in his ear. Taking the hint, Harry let go of him, waiting for his smile to be reciprocated before he returned to the interrupted task, and much to Lou’s disadvantage, he wasn’t satisfied with a half-assed smirk.

Maybe there was a silver lining to the situation, even if it was hard to see it when his head was a bit of a dark place. Having the horses taken away from him so abruptly, with still some time left before the rest is stripped away from him, gave him some time to adjust, which, in the grand scheme of things, he could see being easier on his psyche than if it all went at once.

Still, though, he struggled to see the bright side, which made dismissing the matter with a smile a particularly challenging affair.

-

“You are insane.” He giggled, pressed to the wooden door they’ve just barely slid closed, trying their hardest to be stealthy about it. “You are going to get us arrested.” The mutter barely formed words, muffled against a pair of plush lips that pressed to his own, a quick kiss stolen amid the mischief. “Or shot more likely.” Yeah, that seemed to be the more plausible scenario.

Despite the former reluctance that was not even real at any point, they ventured deeper into the building, Louis almost sprinting in the well-known direction, blinking away the tears in his eyes when he first grazed the top of his hand down Grease’s mane.

“Hello, I’ve missed you.” He cooed, his voice weak to an embarrassing degree, not that he cared much. “Are they nice to you?” The question kicked off the visual evaluation, the dim light of his flashlight not enough to be exceptionally diligent about it, but it did seem as though the stallion was, just like Harry said, in good hands. It only partially helped since Louis would be fully satisfied only in the instance if those were his hands that cared for his friend there.

It was completely idiotic for them to return, even under the cover of the night, but Harry came to the conclusion that this was the one thing that could cheer his pal up, and there was no hesitation when there was a chance of getting rid of that gloomy mood that he still felt responsible for.

Still familiar with the routines Frank followed, the chance of them getting caught at three in the morning was little if not non-existent, the expedition planned in a way that would leave no trace of them ever being there. The horses- in Harry’s mind the biggest wildcard, turned out to be their biggest accomplices, their excitement rather quietly expressed considering what Styles knew they were capable of.

There was no official time limit Harry set his mind on before, but they still exceeded the non-existent one significantly with the whole hour they have spent in the stables where the horses stayed the night due to the storm that- once more- was a rather convenient setting- prolonging the night that covered their intrusion.

Only when the sky started turning navy blue, the rooster’s crowing tore the night in two, they decided to leave, already having pushed their luck too much. It was a sad parting, yet Louis still left in far better spirits than he was for the most of the day, which made it all worth it in Harry’s eyes, so much so, that he promised that they would return whenever Louis requested them to.

Riding bikes in a heavy storm was perhaps the one thing that everybody would advise against, and there they were, doing exactly that. Fervently pedalling, at least as much as their soaked, exhausted bodies were capable of moving their legs, they made it back surprisingly quickly, propelled by the thrill of the crime committed together, something romantic in that Bonnie and Clyde sort of way- sans killing people, of course.

“You’re more fucked up than you let anybody believe you are.” Louis laughed softly, reserving his cackle for when it’s not four-thirty in the morning and half of the household is not asleep. Having their rom-com moment, they struggled to keep off each other, hands and lips wandering all over their wet bodies as they carried out the process of losing the drenched clothes. “Good church boy my ass.”

Harry chuckled lowly, a thunder striking somewhere close out of the window, making Louis’ whole body jump in reaction. “Scared?” Styles mocked, struggling to get the fly of his friend’s jeans sorted with his wet, slippery fingers.

Swallowing hard, Louis’ head shook in denial. “How do you expect me to fall asleep now?” The complaint left in a whine, the adrenaline still pumping in his veins, successfully getting rid of all the sleepiness that was there when Harry, surprisingly cryptic, proposed the bike ride that turned out to be so much more than he ever thought it was going to be.

“And who says I expect you to do that?” Seductively raspy, Harry whispered against the skin of Lou’s neck, feasting on the rain-slicked skin that was exposed for his convenience, Louis breaking all of his own rules, deliriously in love with the man, even more so with that new side of him that manifested just that night.

They shouldn’t, and he knew that. More than his made-up rules were against the idea, and yet, they went for it, the heavy rain covering the softest of whimpers, moans lost against Lou’s lips with each slow, sensual thrust of Harry’s pelvis, the moves purposeful, yet languid, conveying more than any words ever could, at least that’s what one of the sides thought.

The other stayed oblivious, relishing in the feeling of  _ feeling  _ it all, the two of them closer than they ever were, their unbridled pull towards each other crowned with the very moment of weakness, surrender to the most primal of their urges, the purest kind of want for one another.

It was that moment, the two of them panting and overly conscious of their own emotions when Louis felt that the possibility of getting a positive answer was the highest it has ever been. Still, honouring Harry’s request from barely a few days prior, he couldn’t ask him to leave with him, partly from the respect to the man whom he loved so much it physically hurt, part from fear of what denial would do to him in such a fragile state, the word ‘no’ breaking him one too many times to risk it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only today, when I was writing I realized how long this fic actually is. I don't know what I was thinking when I assumed it would end around 150K, but I do not claim the person that I was back then. I hope y'all aren't annoyed with me too much, and will stick around for those few chapters this story has left.  
> As always, thank you for being here. Special kudos to those who leave some encouragement after reading, it helps more than you probably think it does.  
> Keep tight, stay healthy and be kind to people. See you next week :)  
> (sorry for making y'all emotional last time)


	25. Chapter 25

“Where you’ve been?” It was up for a discussion whether these exhausted grumbles were even words, muffled with a pillow the boy had tight against his face, turning away from the window, trying to shield himself from the light that wanted him to stay up despite his hardest effort not to.

Harry stilled upon realizing that his friend was awake. Padding the way to his second-hand wardrobe, he pulled a soaked sweatshirt off himself, hanging it over the back of a chair. “Out.” The answer was vague, too imprecise if Louis was the judge of that. “Church. Then ran a bit.”

Intrigued, Tomlinson let himself open his eyes, observing his friend stripping off his clothes. The story checked out, at least the running part seemed to. Harry’s hair was in disarray, dripping rainwater all over the floor, his calves speckled with mud, wet pieces of his outfit falling to the floor with a thud, weighted by the water.

In the hazy puzzlement, Louis grumbled under his breath. “It’s not Sunday.” It wasn’t. He didn’t know much, but he knew that. On the other hand, it was quite a while since Harry kicked off his Sunday with a service, much to Lou’s appreciation using those few moments of freedom for other purposes, so that argument didn’t really make much sense.

“It’s not.” Styles observed, wringing his hair with a tee he picked up from the floor. “This is not exactly an office hours sort of arrangement.” He chuckled, already by the door with the heap of wet fabric gathered in his hand. “Shower.” The explanation seemed to be needed with the questioning look the younger friend threw at him. The alarm quickly put down, Louis was finally able to go back to sleep from the constant festival of tossing and turning that took over when he, more or less conscious, realized there was no other body in the bed but his.

“It doesn’t have to be a religious thing at all.” Harry shrugged his shoulders, the hand in which he held a paintbrush moving as if on an autopilot, the man barely aware of the activity he was partaking in. “If you don’t want to think about it like that, it’s just helping the community out.” 

Louis wasn’t sure whether that would help if he was in an actual predicament, which he wasn’t, just a stupid question turned something more than it was supposed to be. “It’s quite relaxing.” He observed, watching the fresh paint coat the weathered one beneath, half of the picket fence around the church already pristine.

Of course Harry volunteered to do the job, he didn’t even have to be asked to do it as well. And if in any other case Louis wouldn’t mind staying back, he didn’t think he could afford to lose those three or so hours, not when he had so little of them left. 

There was something relaxing to it, Louis supposed, though he wasn’t sure whether it wasn’t just the fact that they were outside, the rain finally subsided around noon, giving the sun a place to shine after quite an exhausting reign over the county.

“You’re too good for them.” Tomlinson mumbled under his breath, eyes skipping to a group of women standing in the distance, very obviously talking about the two of them. Whether it was good or bad, though Louis couldn’t imagine them speaking favourably of him, it was still something he did not approve of, and Harry shouldn’t be as unbothered as he seemed to be, there was no way he wasn’t aware.

“Oh, shush already.” He laughed, dipping the brush in a can he kept for himself. “It pays to be nice to people.” Still so infuriatingly nonchalant, he threw a little smile at his friend, an innocent one, as much as they could get away with under the scrutiny.

“I’m not as horrible of a person as you think I am.” Louis mocked, rolling his eyes to the overcast sky, the sun mostly hidden, showing itself here and there.

With the furious frown that entered his face, it was immediately obvious that this comedic endeavour was overanalysed by the brunette. “You’re not a horrible person.” The urgency in his voice was uncanny, nothing yet getting quite a reaction. “I never thought that you were. Nobody has.”

“You don’t know that.” Why did he say that? Of course, he wasn’t a horrible person. Not yet at least, he shouldn’t have entertained any of this. 

He didn’t manage to get another thought in, Harry cutting between his words. “You’re just not.” The man argued, his eyes fixed on the wood he was painting, trying very hard to keep the serious tone of the conversation between the two parts involved. “Horrible person, I mean.”

“I knooow.” Louis whined, welcoming a smirk on his face. “Don’t get all grumpy, old man.” 

Harry didn’t comment, they just kept on painting, staying in each other’s vicinity, meeting in the middle so they could skip to another section and so on. 

Nobody seemed eager to pick up the chat, no topic seeming suitable to follow the one concluded so recently. The women that seemed to be supervising their work for some reason, even if for Louis they felt more like chaperones, moved further away from them, still painfully present though, discussing their business with sudden waves of chortles here and there.

It turned out to be Tomlinson who finally broke the silence, although it couldn’t have been said that he's done that consciously. Just one of those moments when his brain malfunctioned and decided to do the exact opposite of what should’ve been done… or, even more, doing the exact thing that shouldn’t have.

“Do you believe that we’re inclined to grow up to be like our parents?” Why? He didn’t know, he wasn’t going to try to know. It was just one of those things that he didn’t know were bothering him until his brain exorcised it.

“No.” Seemed as though that was everything, that Harry nipped the topic at the bud, probably rightfully so. “My parents are two very different people, and I don’t think I’m much alike either.” Oh, so there was more. “Why?”

“You’re joking!” Louis exclaimed, dumping his brush into the paint perhaps a bit too energetically, dotting his tanned forearm with pure white, only the contrast making him wonder whether skipping sunblock was a wise idea. “You’re just like your mother.”

Styles scoffed, shaking his head a little. “I’m not.” His voice was strangely insistent about the matter. As if, for some strange reason, he didn’t want to be compared to his mother. Louis knew Harry enough to know that the man likely thought the juxtaposition to be some sort of insult to his mother, but the situation was nothing like this to the teen.

“You should know that saying this only makes my point stronger.” It really was the case. “A therapist told me once that it’s very common to grow into people that we had around growing up.”

“That sounds like an amazing therapist.” Styles scoffed sarcastically, the comparison of Harry and his mother was abandoned, no point in arguing over the issue. “Any other interesting insight from them?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Louis put the brush down and reached for the water bottle, tepid temperature making him physically cringe with the first sip. “Dad pulled me out of there next week.” A bitter chuckle concluded that particular confession.

Instead that it didn’t look like the matter was going to be settled quite this quickly. “I don’t know how often that happens, but that seems like a good judgement on his side.”

“Does it now?” The teen derided, getting on his knees to reach the bottom of the fence. “There’s been a bunch of worse ones after that.” If he was asked, giving the answer why it was so difficult to speak of those things would be left unanswered. He simply didn’t know. 

Over the course of their friendship, they’ve been through all of the more or less embarrassing details of each other’s lives, and yet speaking of his home situations was not something that Lou let happen often. On the other hand, it didn’t seem like there was a reason to keep it a secret. Hell, maybe that was the key to build a bridge to help them understand one another even better. If they were already getting along quite well (duh), there were moments when one seemed to struggle to grasp the point of view of the other.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The sincerity in this short statement didn’t match the setting, the two of them rather composed where they probably wouldn’t be as unruffled had it not been for the audience they had. “Why though?”

Louis sighed. He’s been asking himself the same question ever since he began wrapping his head around the fact that his upbringing was not exactly orthodox. “For my father people are…  _ disposable _ , I guess.” He wished it wasn’t as hard to let Harry in on that particular part of his past as it was. “When the diagnosis stopped fitting the narrative of a poor father burdened with an unreasonably troublesome child- that’s when another shrink rolled in, and on a constant loop until I was old enough to just… not go.”

Harry didn’t stop frowning for a second, not a surprising occurrence at all. Upon checking, Tomlinson found something sour in his expression as well, but he couldn’t decipher what it was. That was a first. “You never talk about it.” The man dared to observe, still absentmindedly stroking already painted sections. 

“It’s quite pathetic really.” 

“Not on your side.” The brunette scoffed. “What were you supposed to do? You were a child.” 

He was, he supposed. “Now that I’m still going to do exactly what he wants me to do… I can’t help but think that there’s no other way I will turn out.” 

The realization of how absolutely overwhelming this issue was only came to him when the last of the confession slipped off his lips, and it felt almost as heavy to sit there and wait for… nothing, it seemed. Harry heard him, he heard him well, but refused to speak.

The reason for that became obvious soon after, a shrill voice of one of the women stirring up a conversation about something so incredibly uninteresting, Louis didn’t even register it. All he remembered were the excessively fluttering eyelashes, very telling body language of the three that seemed strangely flirtatious in the attitude considering that they were at least twice Harry’s senior, and each of them had a sliver of gold wrapped around their ring finger.

Harry handled it as usual, seemingly oblivious even though there was no way that was the case.

The interruption forced Louis into this strange limbo where he wanted to be told that he wouldn’t be like his father, but there was no way Harry could, even if he intended to, reassure him. There was no promise that he would, although the probability of that was rather high knowing that man. 

It was a bizarre feeling of both wanting and not wanting to talk about something, one that Louis had to put on a backburner because… it didn’t  _ really  _ matter at the moment. All that was important was to paint that goddamned fence, and get the hell away from those prying eyes all around, all too uncomfortable on Lou’s skin for a lot of reasons.

“You will  _ not  _ turn out like your father.” The conversation from earlier was picked up rather unexpectedly, the grim undertone of it not fitting the pleasant atmosphere all around. Harry’s voice was insistent, stern as if he  _ needed  _ to get this message across to Louis, like it was just something he  _ had to  _ do.

Most of the day had somewhat slipped between their fingers, the evening already bleeding into the early night as they slouched on the couches, taking advantage of the space vacated by the rest of the gang when the two faded into their rooms for the night quite a while ago.

Louis sighed, already having changed his attitude about the whole thing. While previously he couldn’t wait for the elephant in the room to be addressed, now he’d rather take his eyes out than talk about it, just one instance portraying how unstable his mindset tended to be.

But he was glad to hear that Harry was still thinking about it, at least it meant that he cared, and even if burdening people with his bullshit was not exactly something Louis liked to do, he couldn’t quite deny the fact that it felt rather nice having somebody, especially  _ him,  _ concerned with his feelings.

“It doesn’t matter.” The dismissal was a mistake, he realized the second Harry’s fingers stilled, the gentle grazing of the hand Louis had outstretched in his direction ceased. If he could see his face, there was no mystery what it would be that he would witness, knowing the expression all too well.

“But it does.” Styles insisted, eyes stuck to the ceiling, his hand back in motion, absentmindedly stroking the hand hung between two couches. “I don’t know much about your dad, but he sounds like a right dick.” Now that was harsh… for Harry, of course. Speaking unfavourably of anybody, even Frank at times, was not something he really did, and if he dared to do just that, it seemed to be rather mild and struggled when contrasted with what Louis had on his mind. “And that’s not who you are.” The utmost confidence in the statement might have lifted Lou’s spirits a bit. “As cheesy as it sounds, you’re one of the best people I ever met.”

Grinning, Louis stuffed his face into a pillow to his side, hiding his expression from the eyes of… nobody, there was no person looking at him at the moment. It was quite an ego boost, although he wasn’t sure how much credibility the statement had. “Who’s the first one?” He dressed his curiosity for a tease.

“Mom.” 

“Of course.” He chuckled, shaking his head just barely so. There was silence after that, one that posed a great background for thinking, which was not something Louis wanted to do lately, but had no choice. “Sometimes I wonder how well do you actually know me.” Another hefty confession crawled out of his tortured mind by itself, not addressed by the other guy immediately. “You know this, I believe you do.” He pondered out loud. “But I’m not entirely sure if that’s who I am. Because it’s nothing like I’ve been at home.”

The changes that he observed in himself started to become overwhelming at times, in a sense that he didn’t have time to acknowledge them before, and now there was a whole heap of stuff he had to deal with. It scared him to think that he would lose it all when he’s back, but the vision of this not being the case was equally terrifying.

Sometimes he didn’t even recognize himself anymore, and he couldn’t help but think whether his friends at home would be okay with this new version of him if it stuck around. Perhaps that’s where his reluctance to see them before going to college came from, he wasn’t sure.

“I know you enough.” Harry shrugged, bumping their fingers together in an awkward attempt to link them together, a failed one. “And yes, you’re not the same guy I’ve met those few weeks before, but I wouldn’t necessarily consider it a bad thing.”

“So I was shit before, yeah?” Teasing seemed to be one chance to get back to the easy atmosphere they wandered so far from already.

Maybe it worked, it seemed like it had. The chuckle that vibrated out of Harry’s throat told that it must’ve, at least partially. “I didn’t say that.” He denied. “Whether you’ve changed or not, it’s fine. That’s what we do. We grow, change, and it’s normal, expected.” 

“What if the people we know don’t appreciate those changes?” It was really quite obvious that it was not a hypothetical question, his previously secret concerns coming to light.

“I can’t guarantee that they will. I wish I could.”  _ Yeah _ , that didn’t help. “But if they don’t, they aren’t worth your time anyway so what’s the point in wasting time on people holding you back?”

Louis’ face scrunched in a bitter expression, his uncertainty not really closer to being eased. 

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, though. I can’t imagine a person that wouldn’t want to be your friend.”

“You don’t.” He wasn’t supposed to say that, he didn’t plan to do so. It was a sour thought that lingered with him until it found the outlet in the least suitable moment. 

Harry sighed, apparently deciding not to pursue that particular topic. It was probably for the better, but Lou struggled to see it as such.

-

“I’m going to miss feeling like this when this is over.” He tried not to go there, if not for his own sake, not exactly having a lot to say against his own thoughts, he tried to keep Harry in mind. But then, it didn’t actually look like Styles took much notice of those ponderings that Louis sometimes slipped into, just humming something unintelligible under his nose and listening on, continuing with whatever he was doing at the moment. So maybe Louis was only hurting himself… somehow a vision of that didn’t affect him as much, he’s been doing that a lot recently.

There was no hum that time, Harry’s movements stilling for a second to pick up a second or two later, like no pause was ever there. “Feeling like what?” He inquired, unfastening the saddle that Louis just barely slipped off of, Raven unaffected as if the weight he carried on his back was not something he even felt. 

Louis shrugged even if Harry couldn’t have seen him, already back with a bucket of fresh water for the stallion to refresh himself in after the ride, quite a tame one considering how absolutely terrified he was when he first laid his eyes on that particular horse. “Just like… I don’t know, you are great with steering the conversation in a way that makes me feel smart.” Yes, he was aware how stupid it made him sound, practically taking back everything he just said. “Like I have something interesting to say for once.”

He… never thought of himself in terms of being the most interesting conversation partner. To be honest, he rarely considered himself any conversation partner at all. With Harry though… even if he tried, he doubted he’d be able to count the hours they’ve spent discussing… whatever, really. From their little book club that kicked off quite a few weeks prior, digging into plots, characters and messages behind those books that Louis managed to devour, through some existential topics of life philosophies, religion and growing up, something that Tomlinson couldn’t say he didn’t source some lessons from, to the most mundane shit out there, just speaking for the sake of speaking.

Because it felt good to talk to Harry, he couldn’t imagine a day he wouldn’t want to just… talk to him. It wasn’t often that he felt like somebody listened to him with even half of the interest that he felt Harry had in whatever he was speaking about, even if he was just talking shit about nothing at all. It didn’t always match the seriousness of the topic, but it didn’t matter much at all, maybe it made it even better at times. 

The emotions on his face… From the little smirks Louis still remembered seeing for the first time, those intrigued ones that, as he theorised, were a reaction to him proving himself a bit deeper than Harry ever predicted him to be, to those deep frowns that were quick to surface whenever the man disagreed with something that was said… Louis couldn’t put it into words what those meant to him, but he knew they meant something, and it was enough.

Just like that, Harry’s face was contorted in a frown once again. Was it intrigue? Protest? He didn’t know yet, though he suspected that he wasn’t going to be left hanging in uncertainty all that long.

It still took more than he thought it would, but when they were making it back to Anne’s garden, her son drew a deep breath, a starter of sorts. “I’m not steering anything.” He cleaned his hands off the responsibility for controlling their conversations. “I’m not sure how I would ever do that. You’re quite a wild card.” A low chuckle seeped through his nostrils, one hitting the boy next to him with a wave of just…  _ warmth.  _

He smiled, not knowing how much credibility those words had. Still, he wasn’t going to ponder too much over them. “Let’s agree that you aren’t, and I’m just extremely smart and outspoken.” His eyes rolled without his decision, a sunbeam blinding him completely for a second. “Which was not the case when I’ve arrived here, but fine, I’ll call it a coincidence, I guess.” 

“Seeing you the first time all those weeks before, I’d never accuse you of being the type to put yourself down so much.” Strangely light-hearted, the man slid through the back door that was usually left opened if the weather allowed. 

“Aren’t you the one who claimed not to make baseless assumptions?” Yep, he remembered. How could he not when that was one of the first times when he felt he had somebody on his side in all of this? 

Harry laughed, settling himself amongst the pillows on his mother’s couch, a little groan tore itself out of his throat when the weight was finally taken off his feet after quite an intensive day. “We all do.” Well that was… less protest than expected. “The key is not to let those assumptions blend with reality.”

“ _ Liar. _ ” The accusation hung in the living room when Albert stepped into it unannounced, muttering something Louis didn’t care to pay attention to, using his neatly manicured fingers to inspect all the trinkets Anne had displayed on her shelves. 

Though he could see two rather distinct styles, very unique to each of Anne’s children to the point where he was quite confident that he could separate them in two without looking at the tags at the bottoms, he wasn’t able to make a decision whether Harry was the more toned-down or the chaotic, ornate one.

Harry seemed to have two default moods, one of them not something an average Joe had a privilege of seeing. Louis understood why, and as much as his heart was breaking at the flamboyant, open side of his friend being confined deep inside, he didn’t think most of the people Styles interacted with even deserved to see that part of him… after all they were the sole reason why there was a distinction and not just a glorious blend of both.

When his friend didn’t seem to carry any animosity towards his neighbours for all the things they made him go through, at such a young age that some of them should, at least according to Louis’ expertise, go to jail for it, the teen hated them for both of them. The most grateful that his thoughts were his own only, he was whenever borderline murderous scenarios flooded his head whenever he laid eyes on anybody that he didn’t know, it didn’t really matter whether that particular person wronged young Harry in some way, for him it was all a collective unit.

Despite his previous claim, he picked up framed…  _ something,  _ constructed from shells painted in every bright colour one was able to mix with a basic set of acrylic paints. A fond smile pinched his cheeks together when on the back of the frame, a lopsided HARRY was painted in red, both of the R’s facing the wrong way.

He loved that, Harry never hiding himself from his mother. The bond they had was almost envy-inducing,  _ almost _ , because somehow he felt that his friend needed that more than he ever did himself, though that was hard to verify since he never  _ had  _ that… somebody to paint cards for without the thoughts that those would disappear in mysterious circumstances a day later. 

Maybe he was saltier about that particular issue than he ever believed he was, which was quite ridiculous since that must’ve been like the least significant fuck-up on his father’s side, but there he was, still thinking about it all of those years later. 

-

“One of these days we won’t be this lucky, and one of us will end up in ER with a bullet in his ass.” Louis shook his head, the laughter he struggled to keep quiet, not matching the content of his statement, nothing serious in his words.

“Let’s hope it’s you then.” Styles cackled, stopping when the forest became lush enough to provide cover, his back pressed to one of the oldest oaks if judged by the size. The surprise on Louis’ face was not something he was able to conceal, still shining through the amusement that shouldn’t be there when they came so close to being caught trespassing, spending their time with Frank’s horses on the pasture. “I can imagine your insurance being far better than mine.”

Well… he wasn’t wrong, but there were a whole bunch of ways he could have worded that one better. “My father would probably love it too.” He laughed, now that would be a story to tell. “I wouldn’t get shot though, I’m too fast for that. I took karate too.”

“I don’t think your karate skill, however advanced it might be, would pose a lot of competition for Frank’s 870.” His laughter grew in volume, the alcohol mixed with his blood throwing the caution out of the door.

A bit more clear-minded, Louis reached his hand to pull Harry’s, trying to make some distance between them and the farm. _ Fine _ , he was sure that their old boss lacked dedication for such a long pursuit, but he’d better be overzealous than in ER with pellets under his skin.

Harry continued giggling as he followed Lou’s steps, still too damn agile even despite the few drinks he treated himself to during one of those backwoods gatherings they went to due to Anne’s urging. When Louis struggled to keep level, tripping every second step he took, Styles stepped with utmost confidence, not stumbling for a second, which was, well…  _ unfair  _ would be putting it lightly.

“What belt did you have?” The brunette asked when they finally dared to return to the road, slowly dragging their feet to find themselves at home soon, eyelids becoming droopier with every second.

How serious of a lie would it be if he said that it was black? Or brown, at least… The truth was not quite this impressive, but he still decided to go with that one, not risking Harry wanting to somehow verify the claim in his drunken state. “Orange.” He pushed out with a sigh, rolling his eyes to the starry sky, the faintest of lights already spoiling the impenetrable blackness of the sky, another day approaching way too soon for Lou’s liking.

“What does that mean? Would you be able to kick my ass?” Daring, Harry cocked his eyebrow in question. 

Of fucking course, he wouldn’t be able to kick anybody’s ass. Claiming that he was the single least violent person out there wouldn’t be a vast overstatement. “If you just stood still and let me have at it then probably yeah.” No, hell no. He laughed under his nose.

“I’d much rather have the opposite.” Still just as ballsy as the late hour allowed, the man invaded the back pocket of his friend’s jeans with his sizable palm, pinching the skin through the thick denim, not much of the sensation making it through the fabric. “We should’ve just stayed home, that was a waste of time.”

It was. The food was rather lacklustre when compared to the first potluck they went to together, so that sucked. The charm of live music was taken away with Albert not being fit to perform that night, and, on top of that, the fistfight that broke out between two anonymous guys, the last straw in Lou’s opinion, brought back far too many bitter memories for how disappointingly short it was, not worth the drama at all.

Louis chuckled, his step strange due to the position of Harry’s hand. Still, he couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate the PDA, at least their own, subdued version of it. “So we could have a karate battle?” He allowed himself that stupid joke, thinking that his friend, especially in this inebriated state, would never call him out on the quality of it.

Just like he predicted, Harry laughed. He laughed more than it was reasonable to laugh in reaction to that atrocity, whether he overplayed it consciously or not. Still, it didn’t matter much because it fondled Lou's ego quite pleasantly.

“Hmm…” Styles hummed, tilting his head so it laid on Lou’s shoulder for a brief second until it proved to be an uncomfortable position, the hand slipped out of the pocket now looking for a different one to hold. “Something like that, yeah.” He chuckled, half-lidded eyes stuck to the boy stepping next to him, putting all of his trust in Louis to take him home so he could finally go to sleep, far too exhausted with the day they had.

-

“This? In  _ my  _ Christian community?” Louis exaggerated a shocked expression as he exhibited a book he just pulled from a trolley, shaking his head vigorously. It was hard to keep it up with Harry grinning at him in a way he was doing it just then, shoving a book back on a shelf.

“You have to show up with a marriage certificate to get that.” It took embarrassingly long for Louis to grasp that this was, in fact, a joke. He chuckled accordingly, and put something called  _ The Sex Bible  _ back in the furthest corner away from the entrance, among all the other titles that were to be kept hidden from innocent eyes.

So they concluded the tour of the library, the trolley of the returns emptied, kicked away by Harry who strode further between the shelves, with his fingers only pushing his friend into the corner until there was nowhere Louis could escape. That was exactly what he wanted. 

The closer they were getting to the finish line, the bolder Harry was getting. As much as Louis adored those tender moments stolen when nobody was paying attention to them, he couldn’t help but think one of those days, the cockiness was going to bite them in their asses, especially after the whole Frank fiasco.

He didn’t say anything though, knowing that it wouldn’t do any favours to Harry’s already confused mind. It wasn’t a mystery that he was struggling, even if he probably thought he was all sly about it. Louis wasn’t going to break that illusion for him if that helped him cope.

He smiled sweetly, biting down on his bottom lip, blush flourishing on his cheeks upon hearing Anne calling them to the lobby, more than aware how much time was needed to conclude the chore they’ve taken upon themselves. Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling, spinning on his heel to take charge of the trolley, walking away from his friend who waited for his face to return to its normal shade.

“Rules are rules.” He chuckled, entering the library after the few minutes he had to spend outside with his ice cream. Anne laughed from behind her desk, Harry was nowhere to be found, only a faint echo of his voice making it to the lobby, the source of it somewhere to the right- the kid section.

Nobody  _ really  _ told him to eat outside, the lady of the establishment believed he was able enough to eat without making a mess around himself, but, just like he said, rules were rules, and what would the kids think if they saw him breaking them? Apparently he cared about stuff like that now, oh how tables have turned.

Lingering around Anne for a second or two, he excused himself with a few books he found back on the trolley, and ventured deeper into the surprisingly well-stocked library. It took him a while to find all the right places, the categories making his job a whole lot more difficult, but when he finally got rid of most of the books that belonged to the ‘adult’ category, that’s when the time has come for a change of scenery. 

It didn’t seem like Harry noticed his arrival, deep in conversation with a child quarter his age, putting too much trust in a kiddie chair he perched on. With utmost conviction, he presented the boy an array of books he pulled off the shelves, helping the kid decide what to get when their mothers socialized in the lobby.

There was no way not to smile seeing that, a heartless monster maybe would refrain from breaking the stillness of its countenance, but that’s about it. With his back to the entrance, Harry marvelled about what seemed to be his top childhood books, listing pros and cons of the various titles to perhaps interest the curious young reader with some of his old favourites.

He didn’t mean to disturb, he really didn’t, it seemed almost disrespectful to do so. What he couldn’t help though, were his limbs that were all too clumsy, likely to be the death of him one of those days. Fortunately enough, the day was not there yet. Tripping on nothing at all though, he managed to interrupt the passionate discussion, cursing himself out for doing that.

“You’re okay?” The voice didn’t belong to the person he would suspect of being so concerned with his wellbeing, a blonde head peeking to check on the stranger.

“I’m alright, just…  _ clumsy. _ ” He couldn’t help but laugh at himself, not nearly as embarrassed as he would be if he was in the company of an adult. The kid would probably understand, kids are clumsy, aren’t they?

Still slightly red on the cheeks, he cursed under his breath and fled the scene, disappearing between two bookcases, luckily enough stumbling upon the very place where he had to be.

It took him a lot longer than it should have, perhaps because he let himself listen to Harry elatedly speaking of the characters and practically ‘selling’ those books he picked off the shelves, successfully so as it seemed. 

He sat on the carpet with his knees drawn to his chest, head lolling to the side since he didn’t care enough to support it. He spied on, drawing circles on a small chalkboard he found on one of the shelves, erasing it with his hand. Maybe he wasn’t all that interested in the conversation after all because he failed to notice that the dialogue had ended and Harry was already making advances at the friend sat on the floor.

“Didn’t they teach you not to eavesdrop?” Harry inquired with a sly smirk on his lips, sitting opposite of his friend, knees crossed together. Without thought, he grabbed the sliver of chalk he found and started scribbling something on the board. 

“I wasn’t even listening to you.” Louis lied, stubbornly erasing whatever lines his friend managed to draw, not conforming to such a disrespectful invasion of  _ his  _ toy. “You’re good with children.” Against his previous words, he remarked, head still down as he grabbed his piece of chalk and started riddling the board with short lines.

“What’s the category?” Harry quickly caught onto the little game of hangman initiated by Tomlinson who needed a moment to think about the category. “Am I?” He went back to the previous observation Lou made.

“A landmark maybe. Though… yeah, it fits.” It did, even if he didn’t exactly agree with that. “I don’t think I could ever talk to them like that.” A shrug of his shoulders conveyed all the opinions he had about children as a unit… not much of them at all. Let’s be real, at nineteen years old, he barely found himself thinking about them.

“Why?” The furrow in between his eyebrows was even deeper now that he had two separate things taking up his mind, although one could argue that this random game was not exactly his top priority at the moment. “Give me an L.” 

The hangman gained his first body part, Harry shaking his head as if he was very determined to win that one. As competitive as he was, that trait hasn’t manifested that day yet.

“I don’t know.” Louis shrugged again. “It’s just…  _ kids _ , am I right?”

Harry scoffed, mockingly chuckling until he ceased to, his face growing a bit more serious. “W,” The head gained a spine. “So you don’t want kids?” He paused, but it was quite obvious there was more he wanted to say. “In some distant future, I mean.” 

“Wouldn’t it be cruel?” He knew he would come to regret saying that, but it just happened.

A frown eased itself back on Harry’s face, what a surprise, huh? “How so?”

“I mean like… I don’t think I could ever not think about it as of somehow, even unintentionally, cursing a child with the same shit I’ve been through.” It was hard to say that, but somehow it felt like he needed to do that. “And I know it makes me sound really fucking whiny right now.”

“It doesn’t.” The brunette chimed in immediately, just as if he already worked out a habit of easing his friend’s doubts.

“You’re not like your father, Lou.” It shouldn’t have been this surprising to hear Harry going straight back to the issue when they left the library, headed to grab some lunch which… now just seemed like such an excuse on Styles’ side. There was an attempt at dismissing the matter, pushing it back into non-existence, but of course it wasn’t going to be this easy. “I’ve seen you with Ben, he adored you.”

There was no actual answer coming, just a quick ‘ah’ and a flippant wave of a hand, Louis’ eyes stuck to the pavement just a bit ahead of them, taking caution of all the cracks, back to the childish conviction that something bad would happen if he dared to step on one.

The weather favoured walks, that’s what Harry argued when he took a turn left to the parked car, not consulting the friend about that decision. Above their heads, concealed with the lush foliage in the crowns of the trees, birds were chirping their melody, a few of them so loud, it was difficult to focus on holding a conversation.

Maybe it was for the better, Louis thought. After all, this was his way out of talking about the topic he was responsible for bringing up, yet didn’t care to discuss. The day was just too pretty to waste it on sulking about.

After those weeks spent predominantly in the small community of the village that was the biggest blessing as well as the bane of his existence, it was strange to see people around, strolling the sidewalks, enjoying the sunny day just as everybody else.

A lady with a stroller and two bigger kids passed them, the eldest of the bunch throwing Louis a mocking look, or maybe he imagined it, searching for reasons why exactly he didn’t see himself having children in the future. Mouth slathered in residue of chocolate ice cream, the face disappeared as soon as it slid into his peripheral, ringing laughter echoing from the toddler confined in a stroller by a mother who would have a hard time managing all three of wild spirits she birthed. 

Then there was an older gentleman on a bike that must’ve remembered The Cold War, offensive electric purple covering what once was a green frame of said velocipede. One by one, the people were passing, gone in a blink of an eye and all there was left was him, Harry and the indisputable, straining silence between them, growing to monstrous sizes as they stepped side by side, nearing what Louis could only assume was the truck that, as advertised by his very companion, served the best fries in the county, state even.

“I work around there.” The man broke the silence after their order was placed, the two of them waiting to be called to collect their lunch. “The first one to the left, and then a few yards down the road.” 

“Cool.” What else was there to say? “Now I know where to come and look for you when I miss you too much.” Not  _ that,  _ that was definitely somewhere on the bottom of the barrel of things that were appropriate to say. 

“Or…  _ my house _ ?” Harry snickered, taking the few steps to the truck to retrieve their orders, breaking eye contact to throw farewell at the woman whom he apparently was far more acquainted with than a normal client-vendor relationship would hint at. 

With the smirk still teetering on his lips, he handed Louis a portion of purposefully rustic-looking fries, a paper dish of ketchup kept in his other hand as they proceeded to walk towards what looked like a place too small to be called a park, yet not interesting enough to deem it a square, after all a few trees and benches do not make a square. 

“It’s never that easy though.” Louis argued, still somewhat stuck in that pensive mood he had nobody to blame for. “There’s always some pursuit, drama. Suspense is necessary before a pretty bow is put on the entire story.”

Chewing down on the first fry, they reached their destination at last. “I guess there is a point in that.” It pained Louis how absolutely hypothetically Harry seemed to regard the situation. Sure, he was more rational out of the two of them, but it still stung. 

Sat on what seemed like freshly-stained bench, Harry set the ketchup in between their thighs. Louis didn’t think carrying the topic would do him any favours, so he just remained silent, thankfully enough eating lunch favoured such silence.

If he was overwhelmed by the people on the streets, the new place was swarming with children more or less politely taking turns on the monkey bars, the swings, see-saw and a single slide that was not nearly enough for the town that was so much bigger than the one Harry grew up in.

The parents seemed to be there, but it was clear that they were there only in flesh, the conversations between each other deeming the supervision strictly ostensible. A tragedy in the making, Louis would say, although there was a chance that this was his pessimistic side speaking, it tended to overpower the other one as of late.

Half-relieved, half-horrified, he started thinking that perhaps, closer to his return home, it was his usual self easing back into the shoes and only now it felt so strange because he wasn’t sure he knew that guy anymore.

Of course, he was not a completely transformed person, most of the things remained the same, but the ones that changed the most were quite a staggering transformation considering that he would never admit to this being an option before his arrival.

Nobody would ever know how much it took of him to admit it, but maybe there was some truth to what his dad said. Not in the sense where he was some dope junkie in need of a rehab, he believed he proved that theory to be completely false. Still, as much as he would want to, he couldn’t deny  _ some  _ reason to his father’s punishment (which he still,  _ obviously  _ believed to be undeserved).

The sunbeam that was torturing his poor retinas ever since he sat down finally shifted enough not to relentlessly blind him, which let him chance a look at his friend. “These are good.” Searching for a more worthwhile topic, he came up blank, so this had to suffice. 

The answer, a low hum pushed out of Harry’s nostrils, didn’t bode well for that particular chat, the guy too preoccupied with his lunch to distract himself with something so insignificant.

Harry’s mind seemed to have changed quickly, or maybe it was the fact that he finished his food, but soon enough he was staring at his friend with intent. 

Louis didn’t think much of it, already having come to terms with that particular quirk of his friend’s. Busy with getting through his lunch, no actual sense of urgency since all that Anne asked them to do was already finished, he was measuring a pretty blonde on a bench a few feet from theirs. She looked a bit like Gina, or maybe it was that tight, hair-follicle-torturing ponytail that both of them had in common and there was nothing else connecting the two. 

Was it nostalgia? Absolutely fucking not. It must’ve been just his mind wandering about, looking for something to occupy itself since Harry didn’t seem to be keen on doing that.

Or he was, but just needed a second. That seemed to be the case this time too. Harry wasn’t a stranger to… Louis wasn’t sure how to call it, a struggle he faced ever since he met that man. In simple terms, he had a habit of just… pausing. Sometimes, especially when the topics of their discussions nudged something more profound than just fooling around and his thoughts happened to be especially troubling, Harry needed his time to think through what he was going to say, which led him to speaking in just… fragments instead of actual sentences. That was something Louis had to get used to, at the very start of their acquaintance irritating the living shit out of him, but now it was something he considered to be just…  _ normal. _

Well…  _ no.  _ Normal didn’t seem to be a right word to use. Had it been any other person on the planet, Louis wouldn’t bear to speak to them if he had to work so hard for an answer, because it sometimes felt like hard labour to get a word out of that man. But with Harry… it wasn’t the first, nor it was the last thing that Louis would, and did, let slip.

Before he even noticed, he was done with the last of his fries, a greasy parchment left in his equally soiled hands. To make use of the napkins included with their order, he decided to wipe his fingers into them instead of just licking them clean which would be rather uncivilised of him.

Satisfied with the meal, maybe craving something sweet if he was honest, he chanced a look at Harry who wasn’t looking at him anymore. Facing the lacklustre playground, there was only one place his eyes could be watching.

“You like kids.” The observation was not necessarily needed, Harry proved time and time again that he was good with children.

“I do.” Hearing his voice was sort of strange after this period of silence. “More than most adults.” Harry most likely hasn’t intended for it to sound so… depressing almost, but that was how it came off as, perhaps because somewhere at the back of his head, Louis had this image of a young boy being betrayed by those ‘adults’ who were supposed to be the ones protecting him from the world’s bullshit. 

He thought about it far more than he ever admitted to thinking about it. About Harry and all that he’s been through, and how superior over Louis he was with this effortless ability to put all that behind and just… live.

Louis knew he wouldn’t be able to do that. Hell, his attitude towards all the ways he was wronged by his father quite clearly showed that he wasn’t able to forgive people like that.

He couldn’t, with a hundred percent certainty, assume that his friend wasn’t bitter about the stuff he’s been put through, things that he was assumed to have forgotten, but clearly remembered. At least he didn’t whine about it like a baby… which Louis felt stupid for sometimes, but not enough to stop.

“They aren’t stupid despite what everybody says.” The smallest of smiles eased itself on his lips, his eyes stayed trained on the see-saw where two kids struggled to get it to work despite a rather significant weight difference. “Maybe they don’t pick up on some things, but that only makes them better.”

Considering trying to speak as interrupting, Louis remained silent, focusing his eyes on the steeple peeking above the rooftops of nearby industrial buildings providing work for a big part of the town's population.

Harry smiled to himself once more, thinking that he must've looked like a proper nutcase in the eyes of his friend right now, talking all too earnestly about a thing of such minor significance. Still, that was not enough to get him to stop. “Kids don’t judge people, they say what they mean without trying too hard to adhere to some social convenances, and I like that.”

There was nothing Tomlinson had to say to that, yet he felt like he should say something to prevent them from, once again, falling into one of those strange, pensive silences that he didn’t wish to encounter again. “So what, a whole dozen of those in your future?” He scoffed, the humorous approach seeming like a good option at the moment.

Harry grinned, shook his head, and chased the smile off his lips, only the shadow of it visible when he looked to the side. Eyes sparkling with the idea that he seemed to have found way too appealing, he started nodding before any words left his mouth. “Hopefully, yeah.” He croaked, leaving the topic right there, thinking that specifying that twelve might be a bit much was not exactly necessary.

“I’m done!” Harry’s voice boomed in the empty library, echoing off the walls so it reached all four people that were still left there after closing. Rushing from the staff room, Anne stood in front of the corkboard in the lobby before Louis managed to reach it, hands on her hips, she looked on, assessing the work her son concluded just a second before.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on the board of children’s artworks, all of them neatly displayed in an order that didn’t seem to have any actual key, but made the collage easy to look at rather than a clusterfuck of bright colours and bold illustrations.

An involuntary laugh escaped Louis' lungs when his eyes fell onto a piece that he was well familiar with, unlike all the other ones pinned to the board. Anne looked at him as if she was scolding him for laughing at any of the pictures, she couldn’t have known it was far from the reason why.

The only ones who knew, only ones who would ever know were Harry and Louis, two of them exchanging meaningful looks, at least as much as Lou’s humorous state allowed it.

Tucked somewhere between colourful artworks, found its place a much less bold picture. More of a scribble, modest illustration drawn with a marker on a printer sheet stood out from the rest with its simplicity, yet not to the point where it alarmed the librarian who marvelled over the creativity on her board. 

Not more than two hours before the very sheet of paper was abandoned on a table in the kids' section, just dumped there and forgotten by Louis who needed distraction when everybody else was busy with their business. A whole marker lost the remnants of its juice in the process, hence why some areas weren’t as opaque as others, but Louis believed that to be a good thing since it didn’t seem like children and permanent markers were a good mix.

Somewhere between Louis doodling the picture without any major theme and completely forgetting about its existence, Harry got ahold of the page and decided to put it with the others.

To be quite fair, Lou felt sort of bad with that, especially seeing the pile of the pictures that didn’t make it on the board, but he couldn’t deny the warmth that spilt all over him when he started theorising about the reasoning behind that act.

He still chuckled, all fuzzy inside as he watched Harry on the ladder, something on the verge of pride playing on his sunny countenance. Did he do this with some more profound message on his mind? Was it Harry remembering the story Louis told him of his father getting rid of all his artistic endeavours because they ‘did not match the décor’? Was he just taking a piss? 

It didn’t matter much because Louis already made his mind about that and he wanted to scream from it. Two reasons. One- how absolutely cute it was that he even did that, regardless of the reasoning. Two- how was he ever going to let this man go?

The second question was one he asked himself fairly often, more so now that the end was quickly approaching and there was nothing he could do.

However many times he pondered over that question, regardless of the number of breakdowns he gave himself by doing that, he still didn’t come even close to knowing the answer to that particular conundrum. From what he established, that was to remain one of those questions that simply do not have an answer.

When Anne was gone from their peripheral, he dared to approach the board, noting the presence of colourful tape with his name on it, stuck to the very corner of his artwork. He smiled, too preoccupied to notice Harry descending the steps of the ladder, his silhouette pretty much materializing next to Tomlinson.

“It seems quite unfair for all those kids to be compared to this artistic genius.” He scoffed, sliding his foot a bit to the side since that and their touching arms was all the physical contact he could get with Rhonda- his new acquaintance- going about her cleaning business in an unknown place.

“Yes, I thought this could be an issue.” Harry agreed, just barely grazing the top of his hand over his friend’s shoulder, seemingly needing contact just as much as the other guy. “Would be a waste to keep it in a drawer though.”

And at this moment, Louis doubted he could ever love anybody more than he was in love now. The only thing that could make this any better, was if the feelings he felt towards this gorgeous, selfless man beside him, were reciprocated.

But they were not, and he had time to cope with that thought. It didn’t seem to be enough, Louis doubted it would ever be enough. Still, he could see his situation being worse than it was, even if it was quite tragic already, so he wasn’t going to complain…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, you guys.  
> This time there's an actual announcement between my pointless ranting.   
> So... I might be late with the next update (or there might not be an update at all).  
> It was a glorious, friday morning when it turned out that my computer decided to just... not work. I managed to get it fixed quickly enough, but there was no way to do that without erasing all my shit, and I mean ALL of it.  
> Of course, my latest backup was made in October, when the fic was on like 50k so I've lost like three chapters I had written in advance.  
> I'm slowly trying to recreate those, but you can probably imagine how dull it is to re-write shit, especially when you know that it's not going to be nearly as good as the original (my memory sucks ass).  
> So... yeah. I'm writing whenever I get a moment off, though there's not much of those with school, but I still cannot promise I will have a chapter ready on Wednesday.  
> Y'all know I'm not one to make excuses for myself and have delays, but right now my priority is to re-do the school notes and rewrite the assignments that I stupidly haven't sent in immediately.  
> I guess that was a lesson i needed to start making backups :)))  
> I hope you understand, because frankly I am devastated and this single thing is worse than everything that happened to me (personally) in the entirety of 2020.  
> Anyways, announcement over.   
> I hope you've enjoyed the chapter and thank you for being here.   
> As always, stay safe and keep tight.  
> See you... whenever.


End file.
